children of war
09-30-2013, 08:19 PM
Winter was falling just as the night would come. A blood red sun hung low in the western sky, pointing home. Her body shook with the terror that had clutched her heart like a panther's claws at the first rush of blood. Her first season was upon her. Never in her two short years had Azalea hoped so badly for rescue. At the same time, just the image in her mind was enough to make her shy away. She had chosen this path. She had dug this grave. It was time for her to lie in her grave, she couldn't sit wishing that her loved ones would put their lives on a limb for her. There was a brief moment before the devil's voice played in her ears where she wondered how her mother was, what she was thinking. ?where is my pretty little prisoner, hm? do not hide from what your body so craves.? His vocal struck her, playing cruel tricks on her mind. In the alcove that was her cell, she backed up until her rump hit the stone wall behind her. Ears flipped back and her amber eyes narrowed as they looked for the phantom's approach. |
