Salem was not for the faint of heart, body or mind. The sun hung low in the cloudless sky, the heat not even remotely reminiscent of autumn. Seasons here were only suggestions—and they often went unheeded. Valve embraced and respected this environment and thus she did far more than simply survive here. She thrived.

Others did not often fare so well, especially those without the blood of desert-breds running through their veins. Valve watched the strange stallion pawing into the sand from afar; his struggle was obvious. He was thirsty, so much so that perhaps he was even falling prey to delusions of cool, spring water at his feet. She licked her lips at the thought, wondering for a moment if he deserved her help bringing his hallucinations to life.

Another flicker of movement caught the dark mare’s eye and she turned her attention to another—a painted mare approaching the first stranger with a hint of urgency in her step. Valve snorted and moved from her post, stepping through the thick sands with ease that came only from years of practice. It seemed that she was eager to greet the stallion, until suddenly she stopped abruptly and turned away from him in apparent panic.

Valve quickened her step and leapt into a collected gallop, drawing close to the mare before she could bolt away. “Who is he,” Valve asked hurriedly under her breath, not intent on letting her leave without an explanation for her erratic behavior.

VALVE
slenderman x black heart machine