Tuktu Weir I created the sound of madness

@Nikan going to go ahead and get this up while I've got a chance, this is set for whenever they're in the area :)

They'd moved on from the forest where she'd first encountered Nikan and Serem, stopping to rest at slow-running stream that seemed to be quite populated with beavers. 

Pixie had wandered away from the others briefly, in search of a quiet place to speak with her gods while everyone rested. The bitch seemed a foreign presence here - the predatory grace in her limbs marking her as a threat to any small creature who might be unlucky enough to cross her path. Silent steps led her to the water's edge where she paused in search of an appropriate offering. 

She couldn't have wandered more than a couple of yards into the reeds lining the bank when the soft cry caught her attention. Soft brown ears perked to attention and swift steps found her peering down at the crumpled grey form of an injured bunny - undoubtedly it had been caught in the jaws of some other predator and had managed to escape only to find its strength waning anyways.  

Her head cocked as she prodded the thing ungently with a fiery paw - a flame lighting in her wicked gaze as it squealed with pain. She snatched thing up with little care - choosing a spot on a flat stone by the water's edge as her altar. (Running water was good to have on hand when worshipping.)

Her altar lacked any of the gifts she'd so neatly arranged for her gods - they'd been left behind on the rotten stump - nor did the stone have the same blackened stain from blood. Still, she had a live sacrifice for the gods which was infinitely better than some pretty rocks - they were as blood thirsty as their servant. 

"Take this gift and make me worthy," she murmured softly, the same words she always uttered under her breath to the gods. It was the same mantra her mother had so fervently clung to and her mother before her and all the mothers that had come before Pixie - it was all she knew. 

Dipping her head in a move that was so often repeated, it seemed practiced and graceful, she lowered her mouth to her shoulder. Her teeth found the scar on her shoulder and she punctured her flesh with a single, savage bite. She drizzled the blood over the rabbit - marking it with her own life force so that it might appeal to the ancestors. 

The girl stared down at the bunny, head swimming almost drunkenly from the exhilaration found every time she worshipped, watching the thing twitch feebly. 

It was practically mercy, she thought to herself as she leaned over and snuffed out its life with a single twist of its neck.