Larksong Grotto all dressed up in a pretty black label

Avicus purses her lips, pondering the answer. men, she echoed, and glanced thoughtfully up the ragged slopes of the grotto.

she's in need of men. women, too, but men are by-and-large bigger and stronger.

she needs the best.

and maybe this woman will—

she sniffs harder, then, feeling an oncoming, overwhelming sense of deja vu. i know her, Avicus says, finally, brow furrowed.

she had said she was moving on. . .

i know her, she repeats, surer this time, and turns to the shadow.