…So he settled instead for sinking into the Huntthread, letting himself feel what
echoes Jeniah was emitting.
He could feel her begin to hallucinate, slow, then stop in bleary confusion….
and then, she gave the visions to the Huntthread, those and her instinctive reactions,
for she clearly already knew she was not sane…
All is chaos! The branches of the severely trimmed hedges seemed to be closing in,
reaching for her….and there was that stench of murder, of someone hating her….
was that real, or merely another part of the madness roiling within her?
She stopped, scented….putrid hate, dreamblooms coiling madness into her mind,
vague spoor of fear and nerves from those who had passed this way before….
She could feel the wolventribe, now, feel Canivaar leading them, coming at last
to claim vengeance for the hunt she had broken, when she was little more than a babe.
But they were different…the scent more powerful than seemed possible, even submerging
that rotting smell of murder…
And then they were in the maze, and she could hear their panting breaths and their howls
of exaltation at finding her…she fled, tearing through the maze without thought,
crashing into and through blocked passages. Her frail skin was tearing on the thorns.
All images are public domain….click on any image to see its source.
- My Very First Fash Fiction Challenge (shanjeniah.wordpress.com)