Morningside Cuesta [m] vieja

his teeth were pale thorns in the crowding night. silvertongue took a breath and threw herself into them, grunting at the impact of his hard muzzle and then the knives cutting into the flesh below one arm. she wrapped herself around juárez, a desperate feline thing which shredded at his ears and tried to pluck eyes from their setholds before she was slammed back against the stony ground of the cuesta, her mouth filled with a bloody tuft of his fur. and silvertongue now was screaming, in rage, in wrath, in promise.