Man, screw the curfew; a true friend would come enlist with me right now!
Sanem’s third degree burns had to be treated with skin grafts. We engaged a volkov squad without knowing they had one of their witches in reserve. Sanem threw herself between the rest of us and the Ved’ma fire. That quickness of his let her get between the rest of us and the flames. She couldn’t catch fire; the divine pacts wouldn’t let her. But much of the heat still got through. On the worst nights, I imagine those sounds.
No Comments Yet. Be the first to create one down below!