Stone Circle blóði

Yes, yes, of course you are right, The princess agreed quickly, nodding. It is necessity. But why? These questions plagued her incessantly. Questions that felt as if they might never be answered. There would never be an explanation good enough, whole enough to fit the empty space the girl saw in life and its meaning.
What are we, Bjarna? What are we meant for? To hurt, to kill, to bleed. The princess did not want that, but she knew that it wanted her. Felt it, every moment. What if she hurt Bjarna? She imagined how that might feel for a moment, how it might look. Blood in her lovely pale fur, the sounds of pain in her throat. She imagined her tears, and reached out abruptly with blood-flecked muzzle to touch her. The contact was gentle, but only because she forced it to be so, as if to chase away the imagined violence. She did not want to hurt Bjarna.
So why did she picture it in such detail?