Winter was here. The gray tinge of the cold season was over everything, as if a filter had been pulled down over the sun. She'd been here too long. Way too long. She needed to find the pack, the pack at least and she could go back. She'd be satisfied. Kill a few and take their heads. Alizarin was dead, as far as she was concerned. If he was smart, he would never show his face in Tortuga ever again.
She assumed a familiar position: nose down, sniffing, her ears cocking and twisting above her head, searching, searching, searching...
Eartha's crew is free to join any of her threads.
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