06-28-2021, 11:34 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-28-2021, 11:38 PM by Andraste. Edited 1 time in total.)
Content Warning
This post contains content that may be unsettling to some readers, including:- Cannibalism, violence, gore
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The witch strode through the chill, her paws leading her wherever she might decide to go. It was not unusual for her to be roaming, as she had no home and no pack to return to. This was, of course, mostly by design.
She had no desire to be laid bare once again, no desire to have sweet words thrown about, claiming that they could save her or make her strong, or that she could be useful.
It had been a long time since she had cared for being useful to any wolf.
Tonight, she had made herself useful to herself.
A lone wolf, lean and fair, had been caught unaware by the scavenger. She had attempted to woo him, thinking of long lost guiles, and had instead found him to be disturbed by her presence. Even in death, especially in death, she was despicable. No wolf could look upon her with anything more than pity - like the drug addict of the mountains - or disgust - like the two white men of the plains when she had just awoken.
Her fury had bubbled over and she had taken his life, feeling it ebb and flow out over her as she ripped into his throat. He kicked, whined, yelped, and was silent. He would grow cold and stiff soon, she knew, so she dropped his limp form with a smear of saliva dripping from her jaws. She turned and tore into the man's gut, ripping open his chest and breaking his ribs as she dove in, white face bloody red as her jaws closed around his heart and up, up she ripped it, flinging it into the air before she caught it and swallowed it, the juices running down her face and neck.
She turned then and began to devour him, leaving nearly no room for air as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of wolf flesh.
[/narrow]She had no desire to be laid bare once again, no desire to have sweet words thrown about, claiming that they could save her or make her strong, or that she could be useful.
It had been a long time since she had cared for being useful to any wolf.
Tonight, she had made herself useful to herself.
A lone wolf, lean and fair, had been caught unaware by the scavenger. She had attempted to woo him, thinking of long lost guiles, and had instead found him to be disturbed by her presence. Even in death, especially in death, she was despicable. No wolf could look upon her with anything more than pity - like the drug addict of the mountains - or disgust - like the two white men of the plains when she had just awoken.
Her fury had bubbled over and she had taken his life, feeling it ebb and flow out over her as she ripped into his throat. He kicked, whined, yelped, and was silent. He would grow cold and stiff soon, she knew, so she dropped his limp form with a smear of saliva dripping from her jaws. She turned and tore into the man's gut, ripping open his chest and breaking his ribs as she dove in, white face bloody red as her jaws closed around his heart and up, up she ripped it, flinging it into the air before she caught it and swallowed it, the juices running down her face and neck.
She turned then and began to devour him, leaving nearly no room for air as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of wolf flesh.
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