Drip.
Drop.
Drip.
Drop.
Freya scowled as the strong scent of decay hit her nose. She turned and looked at Ciana. “How can you stand to be near this scent?”
Ciana only shrugged. “You get used to it. I’ll wait for you out here though.” She winked staying out in the fresh air.
Freya hated coming here. She hated to seek out the dark priestess. There was only one thing that could ever bring her here. And that was Wyatt. With the scent stinging her nose she walked into the dark cave. There were just a few candles lit to light the way. There were puddles of water where water droplets pulled in from the mountain would land occasionally. The rotting flesh smell was putrid, and she curled up her lips and nose at the smell.
