Greatwater Lake where have all the good men gone

she lay worrying at the fish head for some time before a thin, wraith-like figure made themselves known to her. the scent of warm-blooded food was what piqued her interest first, and drew her eye; zharille held the fish head in her molars, her mouth gaping in an ugly way, as she caught sight of the boy.

her men had left! but the boy, he returned. he brought with him something of real value, and so she let the fish head drop from her jaw; a trail of saliva slimed its way out with it, and she ignored the cool sensation of the breeze upon her cheek after.

where had he gone? no; she did not care right now. she descended upon the rabbit and tore in to its belly, seeking the entrails as she had with the fish, and gorged herself until her face was painted red. all else could wait.