Ankyra Sound The huntress

the killer continued eating; chunks of red stripping from marbled juts of pinkish bone. a forbidden color, that creamy pink that signified a wound too deep to mend.

sobeille came to the conclusion this one’s kills were practical affairs; she just had no qualms about species. this was very different than sobeille’s approach, and that fragile budding of hope snapped.

did souls clamor around her? she tried to think if she ever felt it. her mind went back to maleah and the day she tried to explain death; sobeille’s first kill slumped before them. a playmate turned plaything that moved no longer.

and now, had been dead sometime. was he gone? just meat and marrow turned to earth? he’d died before sobeille began eating them — and there were some sobeille did not eat at all. where you be from? she asked suddenly, wondering if anyone would come looking for sivaak; killer to killer, there was something intriguing about soulbinding a killer’s energy to her.