on the forefinger of an alderman

Moath · (This post was last modified: January 26, 2019, 11:43 AM by Moath.)

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

Moath kept pace with her, even his single limp of a strained limp proving atleast 2 of her strides. He tried to understand where this all came from, the dirty and blood-caked brute such similar to her as he was in the water.
But it wasn’t until she directly looked at him, a note filling her voice as she called his name. It then between then and the whelping den where this all connected, and made sense. Slow, like a toddler caught in trouble but mind relapsed into innocence, he nodded slowly.

This woman was Ma Ma.

And she was not to be touched.

And in silence, he waited.