mirewen’s ears flick, catching the quiet shift of her silver sister’s weight against stone. the sound of scales slithering earns a faint, approving huff through her nose. her familiar had followed her, good. mirewen hoped hers had joined her too, though she doubted the old toad would have braved the journey. lazy and fat, he was.

hm, she murmurs with a click of teeth, gaze lifting toward the drowned ruins. so she was to be eyes then? for the silver hand, she would try. near us, the water is enough to steal a body, but not enough to hide it.

groaning beneath her breath, she rises in the snow, the powdery white crunching beneath paws. her spindly legs carry her closer to the edge and she peers down into the dark, sluggish pool nearest her. snow drifts across its surface, dissolving into nothing. beneath, her muddled reflection stares back, ivory points flashing in a grin.

she wonders how well her new teeth will tear flesh when she is hungry. the sounds that will follow, the blood that will spill. she cannot wait.

knee deep where stone ends, she rasps finally, a cough rattling her chest.deeper where the earth gives up. it is winter here, silver sister. wretched snow covers years old moss, hides it from us. even the swamp is fouled by its presence.

mirewen uses a paw to knock aside stone, nose wrinkling.we wake in ruins all around us. i’m sure something sacred once, perhaps—but now it rots. as it should, she snorts, teeth clicking again. not for us—it is ugly. you are lucky your eyes are taken.

she turns her gaze toward ismay, squinting, and begins to edge closer, long fur dragging through the slush like a shroud.

you’re safe, silver hand, she adds, voice low and unpleasantly pleased. for now. the water isn’t hungry here, and that serpent of yours does well.

a dry, rasping laugh follows. she had forgotten! and we are beasts now, too, she muses. how fitting.