Black Morass White leaves of an oleander

She watches, admires, tingles shudder down the bridge of a bony spine as claw rends flesh apart.

What a broken thing she was, to eek out delight from this act, at least here she did not have to fake repulsion to appease the standards of mentors come and gone. Beneath the ivory white of her nail was an aggregation of bloody, pulsing, so soon to be convulsing organs.

What did she see?

Muscles spasming, twitching something awful. The slit of its belly pooled with a thick, dark red. Waiting, she watched the life in its eye fade to a dull glaze-over before making a judgement.

It is dead. She makes the observation plainly, kneels down to her belly and cranes her face near to it. It took 10 seconds to stop moving. A forepaw stretched out toward the little creature, her own nails prying open a side. Lungs, heart, ribs, stomach.. She tilts her gaze to the side and lingers on the word, detached. Intestines..