Bearclaw Valley spirits of the dead

usually his submission would satisfy her, but Avicus finds herself getting angrier, the lower he sinks in the dust. it is not, after all, what she had wanted from him. she wishes him to bite back, to show some sort of spine. she already knows he is a worm; he does not have to prove it further.

fight me! she mumble-hisses, teeth muffled by his flesh, then releases his scruff, though still pinning him to the earth. fight! why?!

she is flummoxed, perturbed. she stands above him like a vulture atop a carcass, looking for the choicest bit of meat to sink its beak into. her gaze burns into his, seeking answers if they are there.

he has the muscle, the power, to shake her off now. would that he do so. . .