Horizon Ridge iii: something wicked (m)

She wasn't here at all. She was home on her mountain. She was sprawled beside her sister in the earth while their mother slowly woke from her cold sleep; the world was full of flowers at the thaw.

No, that's wrong. It was not frost that glittered across the dead grass. There was no one here but her and the dead thing. She stared along the path to where the creature lay stiff and cold. The wind rippled at her coat but could not make much of it budge, being anointed in blood as she was.

When the voice came spiraling from the dark, her toes gripped at the earth. Her head raised up and out of the shadow, eyes gleaming.

Are you a god? The creature had asked. 
What other answer could she give? I am death. 
There was no use in denying anything.


Had she not been satisfied by the death of the wretched hound, she would have lashed out again to terminate this one. The truth was, she was tired. Winter was coming; for now she went through the motions of living. She was alone, sealed off from all reality, with such minor glories to engage in.

Are you afraid?