| World's Edge Mare |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14 hh :: 4 |
| M.E. |
It was with a bloodcurdling scream of shock, of anger and denial, that was met with the pain of the demon mutt’s fangs. She bit into Us, into this useless lump of diamonds of horseflesh; immediately Our control over *her* body began to decay, and we felt her extremities shake, her heart flutter dangerously, her head begin to pound painfully. We screamed once more, but it was purely in Our hate for that retched creature who dared end Us-- and her evil master, who prided himself with false gallantry. “No, no, no…not like this,” We found ourselves saying with *her* mouth, that quite, innocent voice warped into the reflection of Our horror. “No, no, no, she’s not supposed to die…not like this…”
For it was Our obligation to end the life of this cursed disciple. The thought of the sweet opportunity for blood-shed and the indignation of it being ripped away from Us—by a stranger, no less—sent Us into a flying rage, a wild anger induced, no doubt, by *her* inflamed brain. “She wasn’t supposed to die…by the hands of a child-killing psychopath!!” We roared with her throat, flaying it raw with Our fury. She was a child in many things—young in heart and mind, innocent in blood-shed, and careless with herself.
The body of diamonds staggered here and there, a surely pitiful sight—*her* joints were weakened, and the flow of blood began to wane and become irregular due to *her* failing organs. *She* was blind—We were blind—and so We were left to fumble in the mists of the marsh alone in *her* darkness. Perhaps, had We given a moment of reflection, the situation could have been construed as a humbling, ironic twist. But no—We were very much affronted with the crimes of this strange gentleman and his poisoned canid. “You…are a savage!!” we screamed at him, *her* voice hoarse and destroyed by now with the rage and passion we induced, “You…are a maniac!!” We bellowed at the highway man, meaning to wound his sense of honor and mock his supposed heroism. It was Our last and only defense against our demise. “You are a bandit….and I—“ *her* eyes became frightful, bone-white orbs, bulging and reflecting our panic, “—I AM A GODDAMN—!!“
Mare.
With the striking of the black stallion’s hoof, the Shadows disappeared altogether, returned to ashes and dust, ended as parasites might when their host body dies. Indeed, the quick, precise blows to the head of the grey mare proved to do just that; the eyes became dull and lifeless almost at once, the fire of life draining from their depths; the body slumped to the ground, crashing with a dull thud with limbs folding awkwardly underneath the bulk of the torso. Here and there the flesh twitched, still agitated by the Retriever’s poison. A sigh of finality passed through the lips of the deceased, and with it every trace of life .
The spirit, however, did not lie with the flesh; truly free for the first time in her life, Bernadette looked upon the face of her murderer and her savior with a certain curiosity. She would be gone soon—the ghosts of the deceased rarely ever kept their consciousness within the vast expanses of the After—but if she had eyes to shed tears, she would have shed them in her gratitude.
Thank you, Mr., she whispered, and then she was gone.
Perhaps the mists rang with her last phrase—perhaps the stallion would be able to hear it if he listened hard enough. But the joys of the dead were nothing to the woes of the living. It was no matter.
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![[Image: 5153c4324f814]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5153c4324f814)
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[P] Satan is my Motor. Hear my Motor Purr.
