Black Morass All things devour

Her eyes followed the reverend mother as she circled her where she sat, her head craned upside down to look over her shoulders as she went behind her, amusement toyed at her features, like she saw something she enjoyed.

Power. A prize given to those who take it.

I don' need to mourn them. Envy murmured, a conviction on her tone as sharp as the teeth that formed the words. A clawed paw lifted to trace idle circles in the earth, raking indents through its face. I'll see you tomorrow, then. You don't need to worry about me. She is firm now, unwavering.

Thrilled.