C11 The air tasted of their fear

The sound of the gates closing behind us seemed insignificant compared to the threat looming at the edge. Every breath was flavored with wet earth and the metallic promise of more blood, and the night weighed down the trees like wool. Under the torchlight, the crescent in the soil pulsed softly, a heartbeat that belonged to something that wasn't really ours.

My wrist was always in Thorn's grasp