The Tangle you better keep your head, little girl

No matter where she looked there was always a sense of being watched, of a presence. It came from behind her whenever Indra was looking the other way. She couldn't see everything at once. She couldn't anticipate when the anxiety spikes would pierce her heart, either. It felt like every shadow was waiting for her to miss a step, and then it would surround her, consume her.

The worst of it came when the woman, Chacal, drifted close. Her blackness was a step warmer than the shadows; her eyes more obvious, being gold, but they reminded her immediately of Merrick and that alone chilled Indra to the core.

When she spoke it was with a hushed, kind voice. Indra couldn't listen for long; her ears inevitably plastered against her head, or her pace would speed up, or she'd look wildly around for signs of Val and seek his path as if he might protect her from her thoughts.

This latest moment, as she spoke of brothers and sisters, soft as moss - the boy was hidden in the shadows. Indra couldn't see him anywhere and so she panicked, mildly, and was forced to listen. She really didn't want to get to know this girl.

What she said made Indra think of Abel, who was probably dead by now. And of a woman's face, too, covered in static.

She trembled as she moved along, but could not speak.