Little Goat Mountain I never trust a narcissist

can be a cameo unless acknowledged! wanted this in her threadlog, enjoy this weird word vomit

Ostrega.
Athalia heard and now saw, and she knew that word, the one that came from the mouth of the beast. The smell of rot emanates through the den and stings her nostrils; in time it would be appealing, but for now, she needs only mothermilk, and the skin of her nose wrinkles in distaste.
Ostrega. Ostrega. Ostrega.
What does it mean? And more importantly, what was it to her and her siblings?
Blistering baby blues look up in search of mother. Weak is her grip on the ground as she heaves herself forward in a haze before she, then, sneezes viscerally, slime running from nostrils down to lips, and—

BARK

Although this sound that came from her was more akin to an ancient throaty pharaoh's curse. An ugly sound, thick with mucus that hangs heavy in the back of her throat.
Promptly, she then shuffles away from the shadows. She likes the cold.