[se] things we lost (open!)

shed every skin that doesn't fit even if they call you cold-blooded

unhinge your jaw —

The blight is perhaps the strongest it’s ever been, the darkest before the dawn as they say. And she finds herself in the morning light, drawn toward the woodlands. Auni is left at home, and it’s only her, with the wind beneath her wings as she hunts. But within her, she realizes, sloping and touching the dirt beneath the trees, that she always hunts in this form. And what fun is that? The feral part of her yearns to get her hands dirty, covered and coated in blood, and so she shifts back into her person – adorned in lose fitting leathers and furs, hair tied back well enough in a small braid, as she takes soft steps to figure out where the prey might reside.

It takes her maybe half an hour among the cold, among the ice crisp earth beneath her feet – before she spots it, a squirrel in the distance, cold and only a fraction of an amount slower than it should have been. And that’s where she finds her target. Bolting through the trees and the undergrowth, she pushes her lungs and body to its max, until finally, finally she grabs the creature. The sun has risen behind the clouds, adorning the world in hues of ivories and blues. The snow begins to melt, creaking and cracking the branches around her as their weight grows heavier.

But it’s hard to tell which cracks are branches, or the poor creature’s neck.

And the next thing she knows, she’s devouring the poor squirrel, in the middle of a clearing, letting the warmth of the blood seep between her fingers.

— go for the throat

KIADA