there will always be the hunt skekMal inhaled the deep scent of the thick forest; the moss mixed with damp earth and the rain that just washed Thra. His tail thumped against the ground, with content, as last droplets fell on his unmasked face.
by skekMal

He told him once that he would follow him to the death and back. That he would sacrifice his own life, to protect him.

Not in these words, of course, such sentiments were good for the gelfling. But every fiber of his being was telling him that he is ready for sacrifices, if they are needed, and when they are needed. The thread that bound them was jagged as sharp blade, demanding blood from them both, cutting their bodies and souls most ecstaticaly, leaving them breathless, and owning each other more with every passing day. It was bond that was giving and taking, eating them alive and spitting them out more and more fulfilled.

But now, when he stood before him, and skekSo was showing him the rotten flesh of his own, the wounds that couldn’t be cured by any rational mean – he couldn’t help him.

He would lick these cursed wounds, if that was meant to bring him back from the path that led to dark well filled with horrors.

But he won’t sacrifice one thing that held him tighter than skekSo’s talons – Thra.

Not gelfling, not podling.

Thra and it’s heart. It held him in sweet, painful, intoxicating, deadly embrace, giving him blood and pumping lust for life into his veins.

And this, he couldn’t sacrifice to the death that would consume it, the purple venom that would shatter it along with himself.

Because he was child of Thra, even in not Thra-born. Fit with his being into caves of Grot, into the Dark Forest and the Crystal Desert. How could he destroy what kept him alive?

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skekMalthe hunt never ends
Mal. Hunter. Witch, forest spirit and a wild creature. Night enchantress and pagan soul. Loves slavic mythology and literature. Woods are her sacred place.
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