Witch's Marsh well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer
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Newly dead. She was breathing, just minutes before. A pretty dark she-wolf, trim and small. Vivacious, in her life. Utterly still in death. . .as we all shall be.

The marsh had been her undoing. She'd gotten lost in the shadows, taking wrong turns, unable to find her way out. Someone had offered her help, safety, and comfort. She had taken it, at her wits' end.

There was no help, nor safety, nor comfort to be found within a stranger's arms. There was only this, a grisly scene: thighs splayed, blood ebbing from a throat torn asunder.

And standing above her, pelt spattered with crimson—

Written by Miryam
Messages In This Thread
well you may be a lover, but you ain't no dancer - by ThE nArRaToR - January 11, 2020, 07:23 PM