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valarltdSounds of the Season:
Merry moments:
Story-time:
From Winter Shivers
"Sacrifices" by Robert Mammone
ebook: https://squareup.com/market/inkstained-succcubus/winter-shivers-pre-order
paperback https://squareup.com/market/inkstained-succcubus/winter-shivers-paperback-preorder
10% discount if you order from the Square website
Amazon
“There it is,” Steve whispered, almost reverently.
The pig had faltered to its knees at the center of the clearing. It sat there, head erect, as massive as a beached ship. At their approach, its body shuddered and it tried to stand. Its curved mouth opened, revealing yellowed teeth dripping blood. A long mournful cry issued and echoed hollowly around the clearing. Blood coursed from a ragged wound in its neck, splashing on the ground in a thick stream.
“The size of it,” Harry said, almost in awe. Massive tusks curved up, pulling its mouth into a sneer. Harry freed his rifle and stepped forward, then stopped.
“Look at that,” he said, pointing with one shaking hand. There’s something…there’s something wrong with it.”
Steve had been waiting for Harry to notice. “We think it’s a trait of the herd,” he said, his voice distant. The words were his fathers, told to him and his brothers around a campfire in the woods on his thirteenth birthday. “They’re…different. That’s all we know. Different.”
Massive growths sprung up along the ridge of its spine, burrowing beneath the black hide, distorting the flesh. They were thickest around the shoulders and neck. Steve watched Harry approach the beast, and saw the growths shudder, the flesh rippling as if something moved from one chamber to another. If Harry saw the movement, he didn’t say anything. Steve was grateful for that.
“Keep your distance,” Steve warned. “It’s still dangerous-”
The sound of Harry’s approach set off the creature. Arching its neck, it bellowed a cry, a challenge to Harry, the trees, the very mountain itself. It staggered to its feet and blood gushed from the wound with the effort. Harry fell back with a cry and the shadow of the creature, dark even in the white out, fell across his face, obliterating it. It staggered forward once, then again, and then Harry’s rifle fired, the flash from the muzzle dazzling Steve’s eyes.
When they cleared, he saw Harry standing at the far side of the clearing. His face was white again, and darkness haunted his eyes. The boar sprawled on the ground, and Steve saw brains puddled on the ground beside the shattered skull. A black eye, as big as his fist, twitched once, twice, then glazed over.
Steve pulled a rag from his backpack and dipped it into the blood pulsing weakly from the wound in the animal’s throat. As he watched, the flow stopped. Almost reverently, he walked over to Harry and daubed blood on first one cheek, then the other. Harry, his eyes wide, watched Steve step back.
“That’s how we celebrate a kill up here,” Steve said. His breath plumed into the air and was lost in in the swirling mist. “A family tradition dating back…well, it dates back.” He looked down at the beast, trying to ignore its misshapen body. “Come on. Let’s go find my family. They’ll come back with us and help dress this. It’s too much just for me and you.”
Merry moments:
Story-time:
From Winter Shivers
"Sacrifices" by Robert Mammone
ebook: https://squareup.com/market/inkstained-succcubus/winter-shivers-pre-order
paperback https://squareup.com/market/inkstained-succcubus/winter-shivers-paperback-preorder
10% discount if you order from the Square website
Amazon
“There it is,” Steve whispered, almost reverently.
The pig had faltered to its knees at the center of the clearing. It sat there, head erect, as massive as a beached ship. At their approach, its body shuddered and it tried to stand. Its curved mouth opened, revealing yellowed teeth dripping blood. A long mournful cry issued and echoed hollowly around the clearing. Blood coursed from a ragged wound in its neck, splashing on the ground in a thick stream.
“The size of it,” Harry said, almost in awe. Massive tusks curved up, pulling its mouth into a sneer. Harry freed his rifle and stepped forward, then stopped.
“Look at that,” he said, pointing with one shaking hand. There’s something…there’s something wrong with it.”
Steve had been waiting for Harry to notice. “We think it’s a trait of the herd,” he said, his voice distant. The words were his fathers, told to him and his brothers around a campfire in the woods on his thirteenth birthday. “They’re…different. That’s all we know. Different.”
Massive growths sprung up along the ridge of its spine, burrowing beneath the black hide, distorting the flesh. They were thickest around the shoulders and neck. Steve watched Harry approach the beast, and saw the growths shudder, the flesh rippling as if something moved from one chamber to another. If Harry saw the movement, he didn’t say anything. Steve was grateful for that.
“Keep your distance,” Steve warned. “It’s still dangerous-”
The sound of Harry’s approach set off the creature. Arching its neck, it bellowed a cry, a challenge to Harry, the trees, the very mountain itself. It staggered to its feet and blood gushed from the wound with the effort. Harry fell back with a cry and the shadow of the creature, dark even in the white out, fell across his face, obliterating it. It staggered forward once, then again, and then Harry’s rifle fired, the flash from the muzzle dazzling Steve’s eyes.
When they cleared, he saw Harry standing at the far side of the clearing. His face was white again, and darkness haunted his eyes. The boar sprawled on the ground, and Steve saw brains puddled on the ground beside the shattered skull. A black eye, as big as his fist, twitched once, twice, then glazed over.
Steve pulled a rag from his backpack and dipped it into the blood pulsing weakly from the wound in the animal’s throat. As he watched, the flow stopped. Almost reverently, he walked over to Harry and daubed blood on first one cheek, then the other. Harry, his eyes wide, watched Steve step back.
“That’s how we celebrate a kill up here,” Steve said. His breath plumed into the air and was lost in in the swirling mist. “A family tradition dating back…well, it dates back.” He looked down at the beast, trying to ignore its misshapen body. “Come on. Let’s go find my family. They’ll come back with us and help dress this. It’s too much just for me and you.”
