Dawnlark Plains darkest hour

The sounds Masque made were heartbreaking.  She did not seem to notice Redd’s presence at all, but this only heightened her fear.  She had attacked here once. She would attack again, and if any were to drive her from this place, it should be Wealda.

Redd was frozen inside, twisted for the first time by pity she couldn’t swallow.  She did not want this to be real.  She could not deny it was.

It was Wealda that grabbed Masque by the scruff and dragged her away, thrusting her roughly towards the spine.  It was Wealda who stood menacing still, unmoved, with her own mask of furious fear.  Redd could do nothing.

If she knew the extent of the problem she might have offered the mercy of a swifter death.  Instead she bit sharply at her flank in a desperate bid to force her to flee.