In the deadness of the middle of The Beyond, surrounded by red dirt, one foot before another. She drops the body she is dragging across the ground. It’s heavy and she is tired.
Putrid smelly thing.
But she killed it and this time she kept it. This time there was no other warrior to come and take their dead.
The Scribe requested it. She didn’t even want to think about what he might do with it. That guy was into everything. But he’d never seen one of these horrors.
She picked up the giant shoe and started dragging the giant thing again. It seemed fitting that it’s ugly clown face was being dragged through the dirt.
Out do the ashes a new mask began to grow. Unlike any mask the mistress had ever woven before. A little of this and a little of that, Miss Mo cackled dangerously as she reached back through the years plucking the moments she needed to make her latest mask complete. The red and black bonded with silver and scribed with words in the language of the ancient Draconia Serpentali looked absolutely perfect. The bunny shuddered, and Little Miss Mo knew her work here had just begun.
The field was bare. The grass overrun. She could hear the stream. Bright red blooms dotted the trees. The tower was gone. In its place stood a pedastal and upon say a rainbow pair of strapped high heels. The circle was complete.