Bearclaw Valley a loose thread, a worsening

athalia went silent in time with the final hammering, puny shriek of the mouse. she smelled it before she saw it. turning her head on a dime, she sniffles and idly wipes the sickly drippings from her nostrils with the back of her wrist.
amneris had brought her a gift.
athalia's head dips down to nose at the offering, and a snuffling sound of thanks is given. she begins to tear it apart, dissect — the shattered skull for amneris, and the warm torso for herself.
sharing.