Bramblepoint my sweet torment

pain cut like a molten knife. he felt as her teeth clenched harder still around his scruff. as her weight shifted to fight against his fleeing attempts. as his flesh split with slow, agonizing tugs in the opposite direction. 

aching screams erupted through choked sobs, until eventually, there was a release.

for a moment there was silence. no pain. no anger. no worry. only relief. and then winter's bitter bite struck him with the unpleasant reality. it had not been her mercy that had released him. it had been the lack of his flesh to tear through any longer. 

a cut was an inapt description of the bloodied artwork anathema had left upon his neck. she had painted him in red, a cluster of small lacerations now decorating his nape. he stumbled backwards, beads of crimson staining the greyscale of his neck in two-toned detail. 

the edge of his vision blurred as the familiar pale figure of his sister dashed towards his aggressor with enraged vigor. but the boy saw only fangs, and only fury, and he reeled in fear of being struck again. there was another body that intertwined with the others, but his heartbeat rang too loud in his ears to focus on who it was. 

by the time alaric arrived, acrux was pressed flat against the ground in a mess of tears. quiet, distressed sobs escaped him as he fought the burning sting grow around the open wounds. 

he wanted anaa. he wanted mom. he wanted to go home.