My anticipation gnaws like the quickening wolf, like the edge of my fears. I open the bag, and the cold glint of silver cuts like it should. The length of chain is heavier than I expect, heavier than I want, but I wrap it around my body, and the metal bites into my resolve, my resolve. I see the folded note, see the words, the words and his offer. “Let me help.” It hangs like the night, like the threat, like my fear, like my fears. I know I can’t avoid it. I know I can’t.
The sky darkens with a hunger that matches mine, and I match it, match it with the ritual, the careful setup, the calculated attempts to make this night my own, to make this need my own. The weight of the chain is loud against the earth, louder than my breath, louder than my heart. It leaves its marks against the surfac
