Fox's Glade [m] The ribbon on my wrist says:

blood was a promising scent.

blood was a worrying scent.

she followed after it, a giant’s paws on knobby legs. she was lured in by the scene that had been created. already it whispered promises of sadness, of tragedy.

she had thought of her brother in the moments that brought her near. she hoped he had never been like this. alone and with his own blood on him. it lurched her stomach and dizzied her vision to think of him.

when she could, green eyes watched the golden blood-splattered figure.

her teeth chattered on her tongue. something hurting within her, something scared and uncertain.

yet some old primal instinct crooned within her. told her to help the weak, to finish what had so clearly been started. if she had not been able to save her brother, to stop his tragedy, then she could stop this one. she could crush out this scene and the peace would resume to the glade again.

with twisted conviction, she lunged and aimed for the older child’s nape, hopeful to seize control of such a terrifying scene.