Butterfly Dreams

A shallow cut was all that it would take to scar her. The spiral...yes. He was oblivious to Morgana's little tyrant, focusing on her shoulder instead. One day, wolves would learn to fear the mark...

With a claw, he began to trace lightly the mark on the fae's shoulder, making sure she was crushed beneath him at all times. Suddenly, he pressed a little harder, just enough to rent the skin a tiny bit, marking out his slashed spiral with a thin line of blood.

"You know what we do to spies, girl?" he whispered in her ear. Then louder, so Morgana could here, he said. "We put pesky wolves like you in the web, where every wolf in the pack can have a ...turn with them." He laughed, and lapped the wound on her shoulder. It was shallow, but bled. "And the blood of a girl is very sweet" he murmured, lapping rhythmically at her shoulder.