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Sep. 17th, 2017 09:48 pm
flotilla: (It's a distant dream that I love [Eliza])
[personal profile] flotilla
She screams.

Loud against the wind in rage. How much longer must she suffer through the night for a hope she's lost long ago? She clutches her trick ax, teeth grit as she unlocks the handle and extends it -- her fingers burning for blood to be spilled. The first beast that met her blade howled in pain, the sound piercing as it echoed through the woods. Muscle and sinew tearing from joints as she swung down upon the next, eyes focused ahead.

She would get through the night, determined, knuckles turning white against the handle while she stalks her next victim. She could count the seconds of their patrols now --their steps, their grunts-- watching the torch light as it shifts through the trees as if it was all second nature. She could hear their murmurs as they look for her, unknowingly walking into her trap. She lay in wait now as dogs would sniff around bushes and trees, pulling the trigger to stun and kill.

She was getting good at this.

Her madness, they told her, could be healed. But was it really madness?

"Fear the old blood, Elisabeth." She mutters to herself, tracing her fingers along the surface of a moss covered wall. "Fear the old blood. Remember you are not a beast but a hunter. The night is not over. You will be fine."

A hunter must hunt.

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