hold the door
11-25-2021, 03:39 PM
The dirty, oozing, huddled lump rocked back and forth in agitation. Forepaws wrapped tightly across hind as she lay curled in a ball so tight she was no longer recognisable as a wolf. She was a mattered, stinking, hellscape of a creature. So far a cry from a gentle little healer that it was a wonder her husband was even certain he had the right creature barred inside. “Coming, coming, coming. He’s coming.” She muttered into her fur. Glazed eyes seeing nothing of the world around her. It was dark inside her prison, and that in itself was a part of her torment. But how could they know, how could they help her? When everything and anything seemed to set her off. If they had not barred her inside, she would have fled a long time ago. She would have run until the soles of her feet were flayed, and her stomach a ravenous hole. A voice - louder, but less familiar than the whispers in her ear sounded beyond. The huddled mess stilled, raising her head slowly, listening. “Who's there?” she cried, her voice hoarse and small. Perhaps this is him? Perhaps now he’s come for you. Your death, your savor the voice whispered, cackling laughter filling the words. |
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