Duck Lake god loves you, but not enough to save you

the red widened, until at the edges, sickly white rimmed it.

but the tail did not cease thumping.

if anything, it accelerated to match the vigor of the worm-ridden.

you are coming to us. she pointed out, then her thoughts jumbled, ten cats chasing twenty mice into thirty holes. 

her chin proudly lifted. and our name is not hel. we are named by bror honey-gazed, who is of the river's clan. a name of long sounds, tucked close to her heart.