Glaesfaet Sceawere is the name gifted to the mother river that flows through the center of Blossom Forest, bringing life and sustenance to all of the lands. It breaks off in many places, giving birth to smaller streams and estuaries, but the main body flows from the lake high in the north in Dierne Hrof all the way south down through Uyaraut to empty into the ocean. It is a fresh water river, but down through Uyaraut, the salt water does taint it. In places, parts of the river are underground and run through caverns unseen from aboveground.

Water buffalo grace these shores - with plenty of meat, though at a dangerous cost. Many river trout leap upstream daily.


little ghost [mature]

run . . . run . . . run . . . away

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His words were barbed wire, weaving with deceptive delicacy through the air at first only to snag ruthlessly into her senses as he twisted his honeyed voice into a monstrous growl. The demonic pitch reminded Losa of teeth grinding into bone. Her bone—the screaming alarm that blared from her shoulder and blocked out nearly every other frantic thought. It hurt so profoundly it might as well have been torn completely off. If this creature had simply wanted to immobilize her he could have done it any number of ways, none of them pleasant, but not all of them so cold-blooded and cruel. This snake-eyed creature desired something beyond a typical fast and aggressive satiation of brutish impulses. A sick plan drove his actions; he wanted the girl to suffer.

Losa hadn’t dragged herself very far when the sadistic interloper strolled closer, casually standing above her so that his strong limbs formed a four-bar prison around her wounded body. Every sable hair on the sheila’s spine stood straight up, as if the wicked energy emanating from the dark knight were a thundercloud, thick and black and alive with killing electricity. The powerful fright that had galvanized her to escape at any cost suddenly crackled into ice in her veins and froze her in place. Incredible how her frame had transformed into immobile marble, and yet her insides thrashed with activity—for her stomach seemed to writhe with acid, panicked heartbeat galloping a mile a minute as if it could pound from her breast and rocket toward freedom . . . toward safety . . . toward Hurricane. And the lass began to whimper before the demon’s teeth had even grazed her scruff, for only now in this moment of terror did she remember why she’d woken up next to that giant, ink-painted stranger.

The heat of the beast’s breath only stirred Losa’s nape for a moment. Then the softness of air was replaced by the diamond-tipped sharpness of knives, at first no more than a teasing prickle that parted those smooth earth-colored hairs like a fine comb. Losa shivered at the pinpoint sensation touching each nerve one at a time, her sensitized skin transmitting the sensation across the map of her canvas. She expected another possessive caress, something like the slimy tongue that brazenly stroked her jawbone . . . but the devil did not halt the closure of his trap. The stab of needles intensified, becoming a slow-building torment that pierced the yielding layers of her flesh one . . . by . . . one . . . and the quivering noises gurgling in the back of Losa’s constricted throat escalated into a desperate cry. She could not take this maddening crescendo of torture. She started to fight for freedom again, tears rivering freely down the pained mask of her face, but the curved fangs had hooked completely into the fold just above her scapula and now they chained her more effectively than any cuff of steel. “Stop it,” she begged, her voice raw with the primal texture of fear. He answered her with a low moan that seemed to reach into the base of her abdomen and clench her innards with a fist. And, like magic, the gut-wrenching pressure of a thousand razors released.

Her sweet relief lived a short life. No sooner had her chin hit the mud, her head having flopped to the ground once the devil let go of her scuff, than a tremendous weight descended upon her spine. If his masterful mass had not crushed the air from her heaving lungs, the bird’s renewed panic certainly did. She gave a ragged gasp as this new bulk pressed on the raw nerves bundled around her injured forelimb. Shadow momentarily devoured her vision. The wetness of his tongue on her muzzle, its deliberate trail to her audette, were distant to the faeling. Keening growls bubbled endlessly from between her clenched pearls, mindless, wordless, and when he snapped up the satin triangle and used it as leverage to yank her cranium back against his chest the animal noises burst out as a scream.

F-fuck you.” The quavering snarl dripped with a stunning amount of venom coming from such a delicate faerie. Her night-sky irises blazed with fear and anger—fear for her life, anger that she couldn’t defend herself, that she was stuck in this horrific purgatory where terrible things kept happening. Things like this. The rolling motion of his hips against her back was the crash of waves against the teetering boat of her stomach. Losa had no access to memories that told her if she’d ever experienced a situation as hopeless as this, yet her body instinctively recoiled, her abdomen constricting inward as nausea took over. As he reached the base of her banner a shock of horror—so strong she gagged—jolted her entire frame. “I’ll kill you,” the girl seethed around the lump in her throat and through the tears flooding her eyes. “I’ll kill you.”

lost . . . lost . . . lost . . . my . . . mind

【Daughter of a Dead Pack – pining for none – no ties – no future – LSVK】


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