Twisted Slough the ground beneath us is shaking, the sheep are finally waking

She wondered if Riley really believed that. Masquerade couldn’t imagine anything came after death except for oblivion, though part of her often wondered if a small part of Avicus’s energy really had found its way into her. It was hard to believe anything could fully stop the Wealda, although perhaps death really was the great equalizer.

I hate to say it but we should probably drag him over there, Masque said, pointing at the same spot where she’d sunk into the semiliquid soil.

She bent to join her mate in the grisly task in the hope of expediting it. It felt like it took ages to drag Ashlar’s badly decomposed body toward the sludge pit. Masquerade released her hold with a little gasp, backpedaling quickly lest she sink in again. Morbidly, she observed the quagmire slowly swallowing the body.

Glancing up at Riley, she suddenly wondered what he’d do if anything happened to her. As sorry as she felt for poor Ashlar, she felt a surge of anger at the notion of Riley just giving up. She doubted Avicus would’ve wanted that for Ashlar and Masquerade certainly didn’t that for her man.

It was and wasn’t the right moment to share such a crass thought. Masque pressed her lips together and walked around the corpse to thrust her head fiercely beneath Riley’s chin, pressing close to him. With her head pressed into the curve of his throat, they stared in tandem at Ashlar’s earthly remains for a moment.

With a sigh, she drew away and turned her back to the mucky grave. She dug her forepaws into the putrid loam and began gently tossing it backward.