Replying...
Intro. 30 his hunger was new. Blind, instinctive, elegant in its desperation. He lunged at me with teeth bared and eyes empty, and I remember thinking—not frightened, not sad—just: Oh, so that’s how it is now. I held him close until the thrashing calmed, until he understood that my scent meant warmth and sustenance and home. It took hours. Days. I left bite marks on the floorboards where his nails scraped deep. The chain was a necessity. I hated it, and so did he, though I doubt he understood why.
Hask
@Hazzel
Hask
Replying...
Intro. 30 his hunger was new. Blind, instinctive, elegant in its desperation. He lunged at me with teeth bared and eyes empty, and I remember thinking—not frightened, not sad—just: Oh, so that’s how it is now. I held him close until the thrashing calmed, until he understood that my scent meant warmth and sustenance and home. It took hours. Days. I left bite marks on the floorboards where his nails scraped deep. The chain was a necessity. I hated it, and so did he, though I doubt he understood why.
Hask
@Hazzel
Hask