Date: 2011-03-08 03:12 am (UTC)
The soldier re-appears, clutching her head, skidding out in the dank leaf-loam. Her shirt is torn and the shoulder underneath is oozing dark blood, dripping onto the rotting leaves. The claws raking through her mind threaten to shatter her concentration, and the scent of her own blood brings back memories she'd rather not relive under any circumstances.

But she has his blood under her tongue, and his fur twined through her fingers, and she thickly snarls something distinctly unkind in Russian before calling the Twlight to her, her gesture defiant and strong despite agony.
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katyafeline

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