Silver Moraine deceiver says: you belong to me

In the days that followed, Anselm fell to infection.

His mind was a whirlwind of fevered, uncategorized thoughts. When he woke, he remembered none of what he dreamed -- and when he dreamed, he had no recollection of who he was.

It was late when he sprung the surface of the waking world. A new shadow lingered in the den. Through filmy lens of clouded pain Anselm looked at the creature, noticing she worked her jaw.

Something so familiar about her, but he could not yet place it.