W0lfzKnight's Literatures

The young starseeker's gait felt stilted as he approached the corpse. Already Motheye smelled like death. He'd have to wash before he arrived back at camp.

Back.

Shiveringstorm needed something to bring back. Something to prove he had succeeded. His eyes fell to the copper bracelets on Motheye's slowly stiffening leg. They were unique. They would do.

He had to be a bit rough in order to slide them off, but that was fine. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done worse.

He stared down at her one last time before he turned to start the trek home.

It was either me or you.

And it must always be me.