Swiftcurrent Creek it ain't always for the better dawg, i can't lie

amazing how quickly things could go tits up.

long-bodied thing, like a mating between dachshund and rat, swayed from her jaws as gun pranced trough the sparse woodland. gonna show tar-snout she wasn't all that shit a hunter, maybe get red to look at her like the woman she was, squeeze a syllable of praise outta clucker...

the snarls reached her as echoes of echoes, mountains making fun of her like a bully repeating what was just said, to mock and infuriate you.

gun hadn't the sense to hurry, thinking, yeah, the gang could handle themselves. nobody gonna fuck with the red-eyed motherfucker's iron maidens, yeah?

yeah, if only she weren't a fucking dumass.

gun arrived at the scene when the blood had cooled. the rathund thing dropped from her jaws. the mastiff dipped so low to sniff at the ground, her face was almost pressed to the sticky-red pebbles.

tar-snout.

so much of him, there was a fucking chunk of-

lil' red.

a trail of blood leading away towards-

clucker.

blood blood blood but as she followed it the drip told her the old nagging bitch had limped away of her own volition-

gun ran in that direction. every dozen lengths she threw her head back and barked as loud as her lungs would let her boom.

@Sadey.

what the fuck happened here?!