Fox's Glade plague maiden
all creation myths need a devil
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farther from his claim than he dared to be for long, stigmata passed through fox's glade with a marching pace, slow-chasing the bloodied trail of a limping doe he'd injured miles back. though his reasons to elope from the bed of his mountain lake came few and far between, food was by far his most consistent distraction -- often taking him on odd trips such as this, just for a guaranteed meal.

he didn't have the reserves to take her down alone, but he had the patience and resolve to wear her out, and she had collapsed twice already -- leaving great red smears on the ground to follow.  it wouldn't be long now before the staggering creature would be unable to continue; and the general could only hope the low, low sun wouldn't set before then.

i will pry his bony fingers free
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restless after a day spent finding laurel a den, indra found herself expending her excess energy by strolling along the confines of easthollow. before she knew it, she was soon beyond the matron’s claim — following little save for whatever direction her mindless legs carried her in.

a scent caught her attention, its presence pervasive and awakening a hunger in the redleaf. picking up a brisk trot, the auburn waif rounded close to stigmata’s tracks. one sniff at an indelibly placed footprint, and she knew the basilisk was near. working in silence, she sought to join him — though she kept her distance and make pains to avoid any eye contact.