Valley of Gold dolor y sangre

on and on and on it went, until her voice unceremoniously cracked and slid to ash beneath the strained chords. silvertongue was left racked with a shiver and barely heedful of anything andromache said; "no," she said in a rejoinder, a monotone so ironcold and blank that it might as well have originated in another mouth; "no, i want to kill him," and then another baseless titter, almost playful in its sound as silvertongue raised her head with creaking slowness and gazed vengefully in the direction of the howl. kill him. yes. kill him, earn a respite in her mind. without warning she snapped at andromache, not wanting drawn blood but not avoiding it. wishing to be alone; "go back," silvertongue snarled with teeth bared and eyes dilated to voidless consumption of her irises; "go away." thus then did the riverclan wolf stand unsteadily to her feet, beginning a haughty march back the way they had come, eyes fixed in the direction of the haunting howl where flesh and blood waited to be devoured by the years of pain and rage which had waited till this very moment to be unleashed.