She led the way, stomach a bubbly mess of nerves and spiking excitement and adrenaline and mostly she was on a hunt but like on steroids.
“Keep up!” she yapped cheerily to her charge. Killing a dude. There were gonna go killing a dude. It was warm and stuff with rain and mud everywhere splattering all over her fur. Good setting for a death march, yeah? Sure, might as well convince yourself of that when you were marching on a suicide mission.
But Ryd wouldn’t die. She was Keeper of the Cadre. Or like. Maybe she’d die, but surely they’d remember her and stuff. She was unforgettable.
Oct 16, 2017 02:28 PM
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