Let Us Prey

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

The ferocity burned between her veins, her marrow, her bones, pushed against onslaught after onslaught, curling, coiling, and contorting along her senses until she was no longer Melita, but some other feral, wild child. Whatever compassion or beneficence instilled in her heart had been eroded and decayed, wilted, withered, in the spread of the blight. And now she was hungry. Nothing that mere eating could satiate or satisfy; she wanted to ravage, to plunder, to pillage until something broke apart and fizzled in her hands, the life gone and shattered because of her actions, her treachery, her debacles. More monster than human, she maneuvered without Fangorn, the gourd left at home (anxious, apprehensive, incapable of keeping up with her serpentine movements and bestial inclinations), passing through woods, boughs, and ice, finally managing to find some fur to nestle within. Her senses were alive and overwhelmed, head lifted as if she could sniff out prey – Instead, her eyes flickered over to a man with fox ears – to ivory hair and blue eyes that should’ve been more than recognition, more than familiarity. Instead, she simply seared and sneered, a growl in her breath, crouched low to the ground, gaze following Jigano’s as the soft sounds of local fowl crooned beneath branches. It only took her a moment to launch - didn’t think of him, but of the meat, the frenzy, the fury, the barbaric wake annihilating her membrane – rampaging, leaping, bounding, hurtling so her hands could wrap around a large, fat bird. M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe