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"So tear me open but beware

"There's things inside without a care

"And the dirt still stains me

"So wash me ... till clean

"I'll tear me open, make you gone

"No longer will you hurt anyone

"And the hate still shapes me

"So hold me, until it sleeps."

--Metallica, Until It Sleeps

Willow woke in a cold sweat, a scream just barely held behind her teeth. The same dream. The same as always. Of course it was. Red claws tearing through her father's torso. Black claws slicing through her mother's throat. Mongrel's appearance in the dreams was new. She had only appeared in her nightmares after they had found each other again in that abandoned cabin, ten years later. Willow's mind must have felt it was only right to include her beloved's shredded body along with the others. Her subconscious could be very considerate.

Sometimes Mongrel was held underneath the ocean's surface, attempting to pull her murderer's talons from her throat with hands that started off as human and gradually sprouted hair and claws the closer she came to drowning. Once she had been doused in oil and set on fire, screaming Willow's name over and over until she could no longer form words. Lately she was being bludgeoned to death with a rock.

That's it. Just a rock. Her nightmares must have been getting lazy if they were resorting to blunt objects. Her partner, the love of her life, her entire reason for continuing to fight on in a world so entirely worthless was merely beaten to death by a simple stone. A stone being held by ...

"What's for breakfast?"

By her.

Willow scrambled to a seating position, her hand fumbling for her knife as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. The motion was instinctual, her body telling her it was time to fight for her life or to run away as fast as she could. She only realized Mongrel's fingers were interlaced with her own when her love placed her other hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered soothingly, the sound of her voice reminding her of all the times her mother had comforted her after she had a bad dream as a child. Back then her nightmares revolved around monsters living under the bed. Her parents leaving home and forgetting to bring her along. Sometimes watching them drown beneath the sea. The nightmares were much simpler back then. So were the monsters.

"Hey, shh. It's okay. It's okay." Willow leaned against her love. She was there. She always would be. "I've been awake, watching her. She's just been sleeping. She hasn't done anything yet. Just sleeping."

The worst person in the entire world sat up, stretched her arms, and yawned far too loudly for it to be real. She gave Willow an intentionally fake smile, jagged yellow teeth flashing wetly in the early dawn light. The monster in the guise of a human woman batted her eyelashes innocently before scratching her ass as she spoke in a voice as hollow as a forgotten cave, as grating as a hailstorm, as unfair as a burning hospital. "You talk in your sleep."

Willow slowly released the grip on her knife as she fought to bring her breathing under control. Gods damn it, she thought. Don't show the bitch any emotion. Any weakness. She doesn't deserve it. She'll just use it to get a rise out of you. Don't give her anything. Mongrel's hand slid from her shoulder to the small of her back, sharp claws lightly scratching before her thin fingers began rubbing her gently in an attempt to comfort her. The gesture was so futile she could barely appreciate it. Willow was sitting across a cold bonfire from the embodiment of everything she hated and feared.

"I know," she finally answered, her voice as cold as the silver sword lying against her foot.

"Bad dreams?" the creature inquired. Willow expected the tone to be mocking, but it seemed infuriatingly genuine. Like the bitch actually cared. Like she wasn't everything wrong in the world. Her voice seemed to alternate between threatening, mocking, and honest without indication or reason.

"Every night." Willow had to find a way to kill her. She had to. She had to.

"That's rough." The creature rolled to her bare feet and stood, stretching her back and popping the bones in her neck loudly. Willow had forgotten how gods-damned tall she was, likely well over seven feet, easily the tallest person she'd ever seen. Her height was unnatural--as unnatural as everything else about her. Maybe the nonsense about her body being changed to suit whatever role the world had in store for her wasn't entirely false.

The pair pulled away slightly as if the embodiment of Willow's nightly terrors was going to attack at any moment. Instead, she simply stalked a few feet away before she began to rifle through Willow's backpack as if it were her own. Willow started to protest, but held her tongue. She didn't want a confrontation, even one as simple as demanding she stop touching her belongings. The simple camping items were discarded one by one, tossed away like a bored child searching for a new toy to entertain herself. Everything that Willow owned was soon thrown aside as the absolute horror began to search for something to eat. "What are the dreams about?"

"You." The answer was immediate, and Willow regretted that she had said the word as soon as it was said. She expected the bitch to laugh, but she hardly seemed to care at all as she tossed the bag to the side, grumbling in disappointment after finding nothing to eat. Willow hoped she hadn't heard her. It was a stupid hope.

"Lura."

The name was like a stab to Willow's gut, and Mongrel seemed shaken by even saying it aloud. It was a name they hardly ever used for obvious reasons. Before yesterday they had usually just referred to the monster as "her" or "she" when they were discussing her. "She" might be here. "She" might be there. We need to find "her." We have to find "her."

We have to kill "her".

There was never any confusion as to who "she" was. Saying the name aloud was unnecessary. Her name was profanity, never spoken by either of them ever since Mongrel had first revealed that she knew it. Hearing it casually said aloud reminded Willow of the scolding she had received as a child after the first time she had used the word "shit" in front of her mother.

The mother that the woman before her had murdered in front of her eyes.

The creature--

No, Willow told herself. Lura. Her name is Lura. Say it and it won't have power over you.

Lura turned at the sound of her obscene name, her dark brows rising in surprise. She likely wasn't used to hearing her name spoken aloud either. Despite being known throughout the continent, very few people had heard it, partly due to her murdering them before they could find out but mostly because the demon that she served simply removed her name from memory as soon as it was uttered.

"There's leftover jerky and some of the Sparrow's meat in the side pocket," Mongrel offered, crawling to her hands and feet and squatting next to Willow like an animal. Feeling her naked, hairy skin through Willow's tunic helped to calm her, to remind her that she would be by her side even as they faced down the murderer. "None of which was offered to you. Because you didn't ask. Don't touch her--our--things without permission. I mean it."

Now it was finally time for the madwoman to laugh, a simple solitary noise of amusement being vomited forth into the world from a creature so vile that Willow felt she needed to wash herself after hearing it. A high-pitched bark, spittle flying through the air, teeth gnashing quickly like a dog snapping at a stranger's hand. "You. Are. A-DOR-able." Mongrel's threat was a pointless gesture, and all three of them knew it. She was a mouse squeaking out an order to an approaching tidal wave. Lura shook her head, her dirty brown hair swaying in the breeze like the tail of a predator. "I'm gonna go piss. As long as that's okay with you? Masters?" She didn't wait for a response, her laughter transforming into a childish song Willow felt dirty at just barely recognizing.

"Mongrel ..."

"We should get going." The she-wolf crawled to Willow's bag and started gathering the discarded pan, a wineskin with a few sips of water still remaining in it, a ratty old rope that Willow hoped they'd never need to use. It was obvious from how she kept her eyes from her partner that she didn't want to deal with the coming conversation. "Don't know how far we need to go, but we've already lost an hour of daylight. Wherever we're going, I'm sure it isn't--"

"We should be running."

Mongrel turned to Willow, her head cocked to the side like a confused terrier. "What?" Her ears perked up slightly whenever she was confused, and it never failed to cause Willow to smile. Until today.

"We. Should be. Running." Willow hated speaking to her love like this, but she couldn't keep the scorn from her voice. "We should be running. Away from her. And getting on a boat. And sailing to Argavia." Willow was only vaguely certain that was the name of the country her father had come from, but the point was the same regardless. "Or an island. On the opposite side of the world. The EXACT opposite."

Mongrel turned her sad, beautiful eyes to the ground in shame, although she was the last person in the world that should ever feel that emotion. "Willow ..."

"I love you. I adore you. I cherish everything about you, and never want anything bad to ever happen to you." Willow meant every word, and she knew that Mongrel knew it. After everything they'd been through together, there was probably no one alive in the world today who was more loved than the creature before her. "I love you so fucking much."

"But ...?"

"But we would be safer marching through the hells' nine gates than standing here waiting on the bitch to finish pissing on a tree. We should go. This is me talking. I've wanted her dead for ten years. Almost a third of my life. And we tried. That was our job. That was what we were doing. We failed. And now we're ..." Willow dropped her arms to her sides. She wasn't sure what else to do with them. "M, what are we doing? Following her around? SLEEPING next to her? Sharing our fucking meals with her? With HER?"

Those gorgeous brown eyes looked at her partner for only a second before lowering to the ground again, the early morning light reflecting on the feral specks of gold and orange.

"Mongrel, she's dangerous. She's a fucking monster. We both know this. Mongrel--please, please look at me." Willow crouched down, pulling her partner's taloned hands into her own, running her thumbs across them affectionately. "I will NOT watch her hurt you. I won't. I can't. I can not watch her kill you like she ..." Willow swallowed. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave like the woman before you, the woman you're going to spend the rest of your life with if they just managed to live through the next few days. Be brave. You owe her that.

"Like she did my parents," Willow finally whispered. "I can not do that. Let's go home. Okay? We'll ... We'll tell her we changed our mind. We'll--I'll--apologize. I'll be nice. I will. I will apologize and politely ask her to let us go." Mongrel started to look away, but Willow touched her fuzzy chin, gently forcing her to look her in the eye. The next point was the most crucial she was going to make. "Because that's what's happening here. We're not following her. She's keeping us as prisoners. Doesn't matter if we can't see the cell or the stockade, she's our fucking gaoler. Running away or-or reasoning with her. Those are the best shots we have. The only shots we have. She seems to be in a good mood, so maybe she'll let us go. Please, please, please let's just--"

"I can't," Mongrel whispered.

The same words Willow had told herself for a decade. "I can't let her go" was the rusty bear trap clasped around her mind, every waking thought inevitably relating to how she wanted her dead. And now it was Mongrel saying it. Willow had done this to her. Had put her on this path. She had ruined her. She had ruined the most perfect human being alive. "Why?" she asked, fearing the answer.

The response was not what she had expected. "I want to ... know." She looked at Willow, the early dawn reflecting off of the orange and yellow specks in those deep brown eyes like a few tiny bits of hope in a sea of despair. "I need to know."

Willow furrowed her brow. "Know what? About the ..." The world always seemed so much colder whenever she thought about the being she was about to reference. "About her ... 'employer?'"

The she-wolf shook her head slowly, her long, dirty tresses covering her face for a moment before Willow brushed them away. "About ... everything. About me, and-and you and ... About ... this." She glanced around the forest and up into the sky. "All of this. About where I fit in."

Willow knew what she meant. It was something they'd never agree on. "M, you can't believe all of this bullshit, all of this nonsense she spouts about gods beyond the stars and the end of the world and evil wizards. It's insane."

Mongrel's head drooped as if she was a child being told there was no such thing as angels or fairies. Willow had this conversation with her mother a lifetime ago, although her father had smiled and told her that anything that gave the world just a little bit of wonder for a child to believe in was very real. "There has to be something more. There has to be a reason for all of this."

"Why?" Willow whispered. "Mongrel, this overly-complicated cosmic nonsense is just ... Why does there have to be something more? Why does it have to be complicated?" She tugged on Mongrel's arms, forcing her into an embrace. "Why can't there just be you and me?"

"I can't believe it's all just meaningless." Mongrel returned the embrace, and for a moment Willow allowed herself to believe there was still some hope for the two of them. "If it--the thing, the spirit thing--is what she says it is then it has to have some kind of answers. Right?"

"It's not meaningless because we're here. We found each other." Willow leaned away, prepared to say that this simple fact was all that they needed. She never got the opportunity.

Behind them came the sound of someone clearing her throat. The pair turned to face her, Mongrel shrinking away slightly, Willow glaring at her in defiance and disgust. "I'm not going to kill you," she said casually, as if she were discussing the weather. "Happy birthday. I SHOULD, don't get me wrong. I want to--kinda." She nodded towards Willow. "Especially you, obviously. Fucking hacked my face off."

"Yes I did," Willow muttered.

"But I'm not going to," Lura continued. She smiled, her teeth as sharp as Mongrel's even when the monster was in her human form. "This is the part where you expect me to say 'yet' and cackle like a villain from a storybook. 'Moo-ha-ha-ha-ha.' How was that?"

Silence was the pair's only response, although it seemed to be the one their tormentor expected as she lifted Willow's pack and slung it over her shoulder. "I'll even carry your fucking luggage. See? I'm being helpful."

Watching the woman who murdered her family doing anything other than choking to death on her own blood wasn't something Willow was interested in witnessing. "Why are you doing this?"

Lura shrugged. "I don't know, figured you were probably tired of carrying it?"

"I'm not talking about carrying my gods-damned backpack and you know it." Willow rose to her feet. Her mate tugged at her leg from where she crouched next to her as if to urge her to bite her tongue. The human woman waved her off. She wasn't going to get them killed today. She forced her tone to be calm, level, reasonable. "Lura, why are you bringing us to meet him?"

"It," Lura corrected. "It's an 'it.' Not a 'he' or a 'she' or a 'they.' Don't start thinking of it as a person. That can only lead you to trouble. Trust me on that." Lura stretched her long arms, flexing her muscles before rolling her neck to work out a kink. "I've got my reasons, and they've nothing to do with killing you or asking it to kill you. It may not even notice you're there. It's ... not as aware as it used to be. Besides, your doggy wants to go, too. Be more like your doggy, Willow."

Willow started to respond with another question, but Mongrel cut her off. "Let's get going." She crawled on her hands and feet towards the maniac a few feet before stopping. "Where ... are we going, exactly?"

"And why?" Willow interjected. "Can't you just ... talk to it and it'll show up? Summon it? Why do we need to go anywhere at all?"

"Talk while we walk." Lura turned and motioned for them to follow. Willow hated everything about this. "You're right, but it's usually doing something and it doesn't like when I distract it. I doubt it would vaporize me out of annoyance, but it's done stranger things."

"Like turning people into monsters for no reason," Willow didn't say.

"Also, it usually likes to make an appearance. Not for dramatic effect, because ..." Lura was silent for a moment, gesturing idly with her clawed hands as she searched for the words she was trying to convey. "Huh. I don't really know why it does, to be honest. Also, it usually appears larger than you'd expect. Like 'building-large' kind of large. Again, for whatever reason. Fuck knows why."

Willow followed, taking comfort in the presence of her mate on her right side and the weight of her sword on her left. "Maybe it just wants to look down on its minions ... or its slaves."

"Maybe," Lura offered, either not perceiving or not carrying about the insult. "Probably not though. I think it just has a hard time telling dimensions apart, like it usually appears in one size one day and another the next. I don't think it really considers how it's appearing to us. It probably doesn't notice if we're bigger or smaller. It's kind of ... well, you'll see."

"Does it usually take on a certain shape? Like a giant or a dragon or a ..." Mongrel glanced hopefully in Willow's direction.

"No, M." Willow tried to keep from laughing. She didn't want Lura to hear her being happy. "It is not going to be a dragon. Gods below, you never grew up. 'Is it a dragon?'" She smiled warmly at her partner as she mimicked her voice.

"It could be!" The wolf woman sounded like a child again, and for a moment Willow felt like she could forget the past ten years and simply pretend they were back home again, sitting by the sea or underneath her bedroom window. Places where they both belonged. "It could be anything, right?" Mongrel added. "Why not be a dragon?"

"You're crazy and I love you." For a moment Willow forgot they were following a mass murderer to meet an eldritch abomination. They were just two people in love who had known one another for so long they were familiar with their own childhood fantasies. Mongrel had always wanted to see a dragon. If a creature as magical as that could exist, it meant there was still some sort of wonder in the dark hidden places of their dying world. Willow leaned to her side enough to rustle her lover's thick, tangled hair. "Why would it want to look like a dragon anyway?"

"If I could change shape I'd want to look like a dragon," the wolf-girl casually replied.

"You can change shape."

"Into a wolf!"

"A very cute wolf."

Mongrel whined. "Fuck you. Still a wolf. Not a dragon."

Their guide made a hiss of annoyance. "Gods be damned, why do I have to be sober right now?"

Willow glanced at her mate. "I have a feeling that whatever it looks like, it won't be anything we'd ever want to see."

---

"That's it?!" The question came from both of them.

The shadow was tall, as tall as the building they had dropped on their insane guide a day ago. It was cylindrical, almost the size of a small tower, with a rounded dome serving as its head. Willow had half-expected the creature to look like a demon straight out of the darkest hell. Instead, it resembled more of a wider, shorter grain silo. Willow found herself almost disappointed that it barely looked alive.

The only remotely frightening thing about the dark figure was what served as its eyes, two spheres of glowing white that were visible even though they lingered several feet beneath the "skin" of its "head." Willow almost laughed before remembering that despite its ridiculous appearance the creature had ruined her life and likely countless others.

"No," Lura finally answered simply. She took a deep breath, probably steeling herself to talk to the apparition.

"It looks like a fucking ale barrel," Mongrel whispered in disbelief. "Or one of those trash bins back in that horrible city."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Willow addressed their guide incredulously. "Is there a smaller cosmic being of unimaginable horror standing behind this one? In the bushes maybe?"

The feral woman shook her head. Willow was beginning to think she might have been utterly mad after all. "I mean, no, that's not what it looks like." Lura attempted to pass the backpack to Willow, but she wasn't about to get within arm's length of the woman. "It's what it chooses to look like to us," she finished while setting the pack on the ground.

"Then that's not it's real form?" Mongrel seemed as confused as Willow felt, although there was perhaps also a hint of childish enthusiasm in her voice, like maybe it would live up to the nightmare monster she had envisioned. "That's not really what it looks like?"

Lura sighed. "There is no 'really what it looks like.' It doesn't look like anything because it isn't real. Not in any way that we'd be able to perceive. Sorry to disappoint you if you expected a six-headed, fifty-dicked turtle or something. Now get moving." She took a single step down the hill before she stopped and turned to address the pair. Willow wondered why Lura seemed so nervous. She had assumed she spoke with the creature frequently. "Don't say anything. Not a fucking thing. Let me talk to it. If you're lucky it won't even notice you. If you're religious, you should pray that it doesn't." She turned to her side, half facing the shadow. Its "eyes" were still scanning the horizon, as if it hadn't seen them approach.

"And it should go without saying," Lura added, "but do NOT touch it." She turned her head to the pair again. Willow noticed her eyes seemed so tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Was this due to the walk, the assault on her yesterday, or just being in the presence of the thing? She held her blackened hand out to the both of them, wiggling her fingers innocently to draw attention to the ebony skin and claws. Willow remembered how the hand remained dry on that horrible day, even when the rest of her arm was soaked with gore. "It's not a good idea."

Willow's heart sank. She had wondered for ten years why Lura's hand was the way it was, but hadn't expected that answer. She soon found Mongrel's hand slipping into her own and squeezing it tightly. Willow would've preferred to be anywhere else than where she was currently standing. She'd give absolutely anything for the two of them to be back home, wherever home was. The forest where they'd found each other again. The house where she'd grown up. Even the alley where they'd argued after she'd slit a man's throat. Anywhere in the world would've been preferable to where they were now standing. Willow's next words were amongst the most difficult she would ever utter. "Lead on."

The madwoman took the lead, calmly walking towards the most unnatural sight anyone could ever hope to witness. The only sign of emotion Lura made was to repeatedly clench her fists. Was this some sort of habit she had developed whenever she was about to speak to the abomination?

The young woman released her partner's hand, letting Mongrel crawl on all fours alongside her as they made their own way down the hill to the mockery of being that had ruined her life. As the trio neared the creature, Willow found herself hating it more and more with every step, although not for the reasons she would've expected. Yes, it had orchestrated the death of her family--for no apparent reason--but an altogether different sort of spite was causing her to start to visibly shake with anger. This was something that should not be. It had no right existing in a world where the sun rose, the tides lowered, and rain fell from the sky. Just looking at the creature filled Willow with a certainty that it was simply unnatural, though the word was woefully inadequate in describing it. It wasn't just that it shouldn't exist, it was that its existence was profane. It was a handful of excrement smeared on a painting created by a master of the craft. It was bread being dangled sadistically in front of a starving child. It was mocking laughter in the face of a dying grandmother. It wasn't just obscene, it was a blight on what little good was left in the world.

The plain white orbs that served as its eyes didn't regard the trio even as they drew close enough to address it. Willow was reminded of her father's description of a lighthouse, just a cylindrical tower with a rotating source of illumination at its top. The creature seemed to scan the horizon, its movements almost mechanical. Lura didn't seem in a rush to address it, merely crossing her arms and waiting on it to notice the group's presence. When it finally spoke, it did so in a voice that felt remarkably unimpressive. If the pair had expected the mountains to shake and the earth to split apart as it spoke, they were being sorely disappointed. Its voice was that of a normal human, though Willow couldn't place it as male or female. Its tone was deliberate, reserved, almost bored.

The words themselves, however, caused Willow and her partner to exchange a shared look of startled bewilderment.

"The three of you will go south," the shadow immediately ordered. "A forest bordering a small town named Haley's Grove. There is energy being gathered there that I have yet to encounter. This is alarming and must be addressed."

Willow realized that Lura was holding her breath, clenching both of her fists hard enough that her sharp fingernails began to draw blood from one of her palms. She too was shaking, and Willow had no trouble discerning that what was running through her mind was the same thought running through her own and that of her mate's.

Why was it speaking as if it regularly interacted with Willow and Mongrel? It gave no acknowledgement of their arrival, like they had just spoken with the monster a few days ago, like they had been working with it alongside Lura for the past ten years.

"Shade," Lura interjected. Willow was confused at first until she remembered that this was the name Lura had given the creature. Now that she had seen it with her own eyes, Willow almost laughed at the idea of naming it. She had named a shadow. "You're going to send all of us ... All THREE of us?" The monster's monster glanced in Willow's direction, giving a slight shrug of her shoulders. She was as confused as they were, and the worry in her eyes put to rest any idea Willow might have entertained that she was playing some sort of trick.

The shadow--Shade--continued as if it hadn't heard. "It is an individual who is the source. Living alone in squallor. Remove her. Do you require further clarification?" Finally, it turned its eyes on the three of them, barely lingering on Mongrel before it turned its gaze towards ...

Willow's world turned to vomit. Its eyes--if they could be called that--were looking at her. Willow suddenly forgot everything. Her name. Her parents. The face of the person she loved. Where she came from, what she was doing, where she was. She felt like a hare being chased through the brush, the hot breath of a predator warming her ears. Earlier, looking at the creature she had gained a feeling it was wrong, that it didn't belong in this world. But now, looking into its eyes, she was filled with the feeling that the world itself had simply been removed, and whatever it had been replaced with had decided she had no further reason to live.

It didn't address her, not at first. But she swore she could hear it making a sound of curiosity from a mouth that didn't exist.

Willow--she was fairly certain that her name was Willow--was tackled to the ground by a monster altogether different from the one that was dissecting her with its eyes, but no less horrific. It pulled her to the ground, no doubt ready to sink its rotten fangs into her throat, filthy claws cradling her head in a sick mockery of affection. The wretched animal crouched over her as if shielding her from arrows. Its stench was foul, its entire body covered in a layer of dark hair, its fangs dripping with saliva. But the strangest thing about the horrid creature was its eyes--dark brown, flecked with orange and gold ... and concern. Willow struggled to escape, screaming in terror as the beast assaulted her.

"Willow?" the beast was addressing her familiarly. "Willow, are you okay? Look at me, not it, please please look at me!"

Reality reasserted its presence as Willow blinked and suddenly recognized the monster as someone more precious to her than her own life. She saw tall figures swaying in the breeze and the word "trees" entered her mind. The ground was real again, the stringy dead grass, the dirty brown tunic that clung to her chest. The world existed once more, and Willow found herself almost wishing that it didn't. Mongrel wrapped her in her strong arms as she began to weep.

"It killed me," Willow sobbed. "It killed me!"

"No, love, it didn't. You're okay!" Her mate was rocking her back and forth just as her mother used to whenever she would wake from a nightmare. The memory made Willow weep even harder as she remembered that she had a mother, and that her mother was dead. "You're okay. You're here. Don't look at it. You're okay."

"Good fucking job," Lura loudly proclaimed. Mongrel turned to hiss at her, bearing her sharp teeth, no doubt thinking the apparition's servant was mocking her partner. Instead, the madwoman was facing the barely living atrocity that loomed before them. "What's your next trick? Setting a puppy on fire? Kicking a baby? No, I guess you'd leave that up to me." Hairs began flowing from Lura's forearms, and she slowly raised to the balls of her feet as they began to shift to a more lupine stance. "You didn't need to do that to her. She didn't deserve that." Her long hair was growing longer, her voice becoming deeper, a razor-sharp growl lingering just beneath every word. "How about you just stick to making MY life a living hell and leave those two alone, hmm? You're making me jealous."

Willow stopped sobbing. Was she defending them?

The white orbs turned to Lura and lingered for a moment before they again turned their attention to the horizon as if the exchange had never taken place. Willow was surprised to find that Lura hadn't shied away from the gaze. How many times had she had to endure that stare? How was she still alive?

"This one," the shadow droned. "The small one." Willow knew it was referring to her, and for a moment clung to Mongrel's strong, furry arms, afraid it was going to return its attention to her. She couldn't go through that again. "She is not the same species as you or the other. This is a liability that is easily addressed. Remain still, child."

"No!" Willow screamed. "No, please, I-I don't want to be like them!" She wasn't going to become one of them. Not like her. Never like her.

"We ... need someone who can pass among the humans, Shade." Lura glanced back at Willow before continuing to address the living nothingness. "You said that. I'm an infamous mass murderer. The other one is a dog. The ... 'smaller one' is a normal human woman. That was the point of recruiting her, Shade. Remember?"

A lie. It had never recruited her, never chosen her aside from upon that horrible day, and even then it had changed its mind. Lura must have been banking on it not remembering. Or not caring. But why?

"Of course," it slowly replied. Was it trying to remember if the choice was one that it had made or if Lura was stringing it along? Willow knew that it probably just didn't care. For one strange moment she felt sorry for the monster. Whatever passed for life for the thing, it must have been a horrible existence. Always aware of everything, every single second, everywhere in the world, and yet never able to exert its own will lest it end the very same world it pretended to care about. But then the loathing returned and Willow just wanted the shadow to be anywhere other than standing before her. "There are no further questions." It wasn't asking. "You will contact me when it is finished. This will be a difficult task. Do not fail."

And then it was gone. There was no thunderous flash of light, no fading into shadow, no disappearing in a puff of black smoke. It was simply no longer there.

Willow clung to Mongrel tighter. She needed just a few more moments, just a few precious seconds to linger somewhere safe and loved until the memory of the exchange left her. She had never felt so helpless. Instead, she felt her love's warm hands push her away slightly. "It's not ... so bad. Being like me." She sounded hurt, and Willow only then realized what she had said.

"M, I ... I didn't mean it like that! You know that."

Mongrel pushed her away and crawled towards Lura. Willow held her breath at the sight of the woman she loved choosing to move away from her and towards a murderer. She suddenly felt so alone. "It's fine," the half-wolf whispered softly.

It was not fine.

"Well!" Lura clapped her hands on her knees, dusted her stolen pair of breeches off slightly, and turned to the pair as if she was pleased at having found fresh bread at the market. At some point in the conversation fur had started to grow down her jawline, her lips had turned black, and her height had increased even more. Her body slowly began to shift into her more human form. "That went way better than I expected."

Willow reached for Mongrel, but she was already crouching by Lura, her almost feral eyes lingering upon the spot where the shadow had recently stood. Perhaps she expected to find the dead grass to be blackened and burned from its presence, but it was just the same as ever. Willow started to rise to her feet, but she suddenly felt so weak. Her head was swimming and she desperately wanted to lay down. "I almost died," she finally responded. "I saw the world unmade. How is that better than you expected?"

Lura didn't seem to understand the question, taking it at face value. "It must have been in a good mood." She shrugged. "Fuck me. We've got some daylight left, and there's a cozy cave by a dry brook a few miles from here that doesn't have too many bitey things living in it. Good place to spend the night before we embark on our noble quest to kill a homeless person. Shall we?"

"Why did it act like we'd been here before?" Mongrel asked slowly, probably fearing the answer. "Like we'd talked to it only yesterday?"

The murderer shrugged again. "Maybe it thinks you did. Or maybe it's been watching you for ten years now. Maybe it doesn't perceive time the way we do. Or at all. Who the fuck knows?" It turned, regarding them for a moment before her expression turned to one of slight annoyance. "Look, you're asking for explanations on the behavior of a creature that operates entirely on its own logic. Just do what it wants and hope it doesn't kill you. That's been my strategy for the past lifetime." She smiled weakly at Willow. "Sorry about the whole you're-dead-and-now-you're-not thing. It doesn't usually do that. Not on a first date, anyway. It must have been really curious about you for some reason."

"This is your job." Willow's words sounded distant even to her own ears. "This is what you do every day. Isn't it?"

Lura looked to the ground, watching as her feet shifted back to normal, the fur on her arm shifting back to a thick dusting of human hair until her body was the same as when they'd arrived. "Somebody has to."

"It's your job," Willow repeated before adding calmly, "Not ours."

The tall woman smirked, although her eyes lit up with a flash of anger for just a moment. "Was wondering when we'd get to this point in our relationship. Don't start down that line of thinking, little girl. For the next two days, it's your job, too. You're coming with. Even if it's just for the one time. Let's go, puppies."

"Willow, if we leave and it gets upset ..." Despite addressing her partner, Mongrel's eyes were darting left and right as if searching for a better answer to the question she was thinking. Willow didn't think the creature could get upset. Emotion seemed an entirely foreign concept to it.

Still, she took Mongrel's meaning. Getting on the entity's bad side could mean the end of them. "Damn it," Willow whispered. "I didn't want to do this."

Mongrel hung her head, her single connected brow drooping in regret. "It's my fault."

"No, M, it's not. Don't ever think that."

Lura clapped her hands as if to break up the conversation. "Rrrrright! So ... Cave? Shall we, ladies?"

Willow shook her head, her eyes still locked on her partner. "It could kill us if we leave, but working for it ... M, I don't want to spend the rest of my life like her." She nodded towards Lura. "Living in fear of something that shouldn't even be alive, doing whatever it wants, killing whoever it wants until we're no longer the people we are now. I'd rather die."

"Y-Yeah ... Okay." The she-wolf nodded slowly before she started to crawl back towards her love. More than anything, Willow just wanted to take her hand and leave this place. She smiled as Mongrel drew closer ...

And then Lura was between the two, her bare foot gently coming to rest on the ground near where Willow still sat. Her arms were crossed, a cold stare of refusal held in her eyes. Willow was reminded that this was someone people feared. She had likely killed more people than Willow would ever meet. "No. You're coming."

Willow cleared her throat. She knew this confrontation was inevitable. It had run through her mind a hundred times since they'd agreed to come with her. She'd practiced her next words so many times that she feared they might sound detached, as if she didn't realize what was happening. "Lura, we want to leave. We'll never bother you again. You'll never see us again. Just ... Please, just let us go."

A dismissive shake of her head dashed to pieces any hope that this would end peacefully. "You don't understand. That was me stating a simple fact: You're coming." Without turning to face her, she pointed a long clawed hand towards Mongrel, whose body was already shifting, growing larger, bones stretching as mismatched fur started to grow from her arms and shoulders. "Stay down," she calmly commanded. Lura extended her other hand to Willow, kindly offering to help her to her feet. "Let's go, Willow."

Something about the bitch using her name caused Willow to sneer and brought a growling noise from Mongrel.

Willow forced her words to be slow, firm, and calm. "Or what, Lura? You'll kill us?"

Lura blinked several times and seemed suddenly confused. "I mean ... Yes? I thought that was obvious." She shook her hand impatiently, urging Willow to take it. "Do I need to say the words or something?"

Willow ignored the offered hand and rose to her feet on her own. Nothing would ever make her touch that hand. "Maybe you do."

The killer sighed. "Okay. Yeah. Fine." She paused, regarding Willow for a moment before clearing her throat as if she was preparing to recite something she had memorized for a teacher. "You're coming with me. Just this once. You're coming with me or I'm going to kill you." She pointed at Mongrel, whose canine teeth had grown enough that they were now too big for her mouth. Lura continued to point even as the lesser werewolf started to circle her, stalking her like prey as her hands shifted into paws. "I'll kill her first. Not out of any concern for her being the bigger threat. Just because I want to see the look on your face as the light leaves her eyes. Do you think she'll have enough time to romantically whisper your name before she goes into shock when her intestines are lying on the dirt?" For a moment, Lura's eyes shifted from brown to yellow before back to brown again. "Don't fuck with me, girl. Be smart. You know exactly who it is you're dealing with."

"Yes," Willow whispered softly. "Yes, I certainly do."

"Good!" There it was again. That smile. That same fucking smile Willow saw every time she fell asleep. "So pick up your fucking bag and let's go sleep in a cave. One job. With me. That's it. I promise."

"Willow?" The she-wolf had at some point shifted back to her normal, half-human form. The look of sad resignation on her face hurt Willow more than anything the monster could ever do to her.

Willow swallowed and released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Okay. One job. Then you'll let us go."

Sharp yellow teeth were the first response. "That's good! Think of yourself as hostages. That'll make it easier on you. Everybody knows what role they're playing. One job. Then I'll let you go."

The human woman closed her eyes and felt the blood drain from her face. "Okay."

Lura didn't wait for a response, simply turning on her heel and whistling as she walked back up the hill.

---

The cave was much as described, a small crevice in the rock next to a dried stream. It extended only ten feet or so past its mouth, just enough to keep any rain off of them. Not that it ever really rained. The cave was almost cozy in some strange way.

"Where are you sleeping?" Willow asked their captor.

Lura shrugged and gestured to a mound of sandy dirt near the rear of the crevice. "I usually sleep over there when I use this place. Soft sand and less bat shit. Why?"

"So I can sleep as far away from you as possible." She dropped her pack loudly and began to undo the leather straps holding her bedroll in place, bringing the soft mat to her face and inhaling. Willow smiled and glanced at her partner. The smell reminded her of that first day together, making love and holding each other as they both found a new reason to keep living after ...

After her. Lura strode to the backpack and lifted it, turning it upside down and spilling the contents onto the dirt. It was the second time she'd gone through Willow's belongings.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Willow snatched the bag away. This was petty, even for her.

The madwoman growled in annoyance. "Thought you might have been lying."

"About what?!" Mongrel crawled closer and began picking the objects up, rubbing the dirt away a bit before placing them back into the sack.

"Thought you might have had some whiskey squirreled away." Lura groaned as she sat on a rock near the mouth of the cave. "How the fuck do people go to sleep sober?" She spat into the dirt, managed to get half the expectorant on her chin, and wiped it off on the back of her arm.

For a brief moment, Willow thought about keeping watch--and not for any trouble originating from outside of the cave. She almost immediately realized how pointless that would be. If the bitch wanted them dead, she would've done it already. In some sickening, almost perverse way, the pair were safer alongside Lura than they had ever been in their lives. As long as she had a use for them, at least. Willow interlocked her fingers with Mongrel's as the half-wolf lay down next to her, sliding her warm furry back against her love's chest.

"You two really are cute." This earned the madwoman only a growl from Mongrel and a rude masturbatory gesture from Willow. Lura made a contented sound. "I wasn't being sarcastic. This time." She stretched her bare feet, shoving a few pieces of sandstone away from where she intended to sleep.

Despite the presence of the monster so near to them, Willow couldn't help but fall asleep quickly. Being killed and resurrected by an eldritch horror seemed to make her tired.

---

When she was certain her love was asleep, Mongrel slowly pulled her hand away, brushing her dirty claws through Willow's hair, tucking a strand behind her ear as she knew her mate often did. It was a simple gesture, but one that always caused Willow to laugh, and thus made the gesture one of Mongrel's favorite things in the world. Mongrel rose to a crouch, tucking the blonde young woman's dusty fur blanket around her before she slowly crept toward their captor.

Lura was still sitting, one brow raised quizzically as she watched the other gahreer approach. "Something on your mind, doggie?" she asked innocently, flashing her perpetually canine teeth as Mongrel took a seat on her haunches.

For a moment a look of resentment lingered in Mongrel's gold- and orange-flecked eyes before she hung her head in resigned confirmation. "Yes. Something is."

"This should be good." Lura interlocked her fingers patiently and crossed one hairy leg over the other as if she were sitting in a leather-bound chair in some warm, cozy study. "What shall we talk about, hmm? Hopefully not the time I sacked your village? I'm honestly sick of hearing about that. Maybe about the fucking abomination holding the rest of the world hostage? Maybe the weather? Or--"

"Us," Mongrel interrupted, earning another raise of Lura's brow. "You and me, I mean."

"I don't like women, if that's what you're asking. You're too young for me anyw--"

"Stop." Mongrel shook her head. "You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually."

"Werewolves." The half-wolf paused before correcting herself, her long tongue darting forth slightly to wet her black lips. "Gahreer."

"Ohhh," Lura replied simply. "Gotcha. What else do you want to hear? You know everything I do now after the little seminar I gave right after you set me on fire."

"How is it that ... Gods below, I hate even saying the words ..." Mongrel took a breath, steeling herself for the awkward question. "How is it that I know everything you're saying is true? You're a liar and a murderer and a--"

"Yes, yes, okay. We both know what I am." Lura picked a bit of dirt from beneath her long fingernails. "Finish your question. It was just getting interesting."

"About 'Shade.' And the end of the world, and monsters from beyond the stars and-and-and all the other nonsense." Mongrel looked at her half-animal hands, wishing for the millionth time that they were the ones she had been born with. Even after all this time, she still felt revulsion whenever she looked at herself. At the hair, and the claws, and the bestial slit between her legs. "Tell me a lie."

Lura gave a small laugh. "Oddly enough I get where you're going with this. Okay: The sea is orange."

Mongrel nodded. "And now a truth? A weird one. The stranger the better."

Lura hummed, a high pitch, almost pleasant musical tone. "Oh! How about: The world was saved by a big glowing white wolf that for some silly reason I at first thought was the spirit of my father."

The half-wolf hugged herself. "I believe you. No matter how absurd, I know when you're telling the truth." She looked piteously at her captor. "Why?"

Lura sighed, contemplating her answer before giving it. "I think it's like a pack thing. Like with normal wolves. Fucking bastards that they are, they work together. There's no dishonesty amongst them, no disagreement. If one says 'danger,' it means there's danger. If one wants to be left alone, she's left alone. We're meant to work together--when there are a group of us, anyway. Can't work together if we aren't truthful to each other. It's not like bees or ants or anything like that, but we just kinda ... know." She nodded towards Mongrel in a gesture that almost seemed respectful. "Like how we can sense each other from hundreds of miles away. Like how I assume you found me in the first place, or how I could sense ..." She hung her head and frowned. "Like how I could sense where other gahreer were."

Mongrel wasn't sure if her question had been answered, but she felt there probably wasn't a better way to phrase it anyway.

The murderer slowly pointed towards Willow where she lay twitching in her sleep. "And it's why that's not going to work."

A look of utter rage was Mongrel's response, followed by a snarl that displayed her ever-present fangs.

Lura held her hands up in a disarming gesture. "Not the way it is now. We're different than the humans. Better, stronger, faster, obviously. Much prettier, in my case. But we're not cut from the same cloth. We're wild animals--in the best way possible. Attune with nature in a way they can't understand. The humans, they're ..." She frowned, remembering something she likely didn't want to. "They're the ones that always try to ruin the world, and we belong to that world more than they could ever hope to. All the other shit, with Shade and the world being round and all the rest of it?" She shrugged her shoulders and nodded towards the sleeping woman. "She'll never understand it the way we do. If she ever does."

Mongrel hated that she could immediately tell Lura was telling the truth.

"In some fucked up way," Lura continued, "the two of us know each other more intimately than the two of you ever will." She snorted. "Hmm, 'intimate' was probably not a great word to use there. You've ... offered it to her? The 'gift?'"

Mongrel nodded slowly without taking her eyes off of her hands. Her paws. Her filthy, unnatural animal paws. "I've ..." She had to clear her throat to bring her voice above a whisper. She sniffed the air, reassuring herself by Willow's scent that she was still asleep. "I've asked her to. I want her to. But ..."

"But she doesn't want to become gahreer." Lura's words were oddly sympathetic, and Mongrel hated her all the more for it. "She never will. I'm sorry."

The half-wolf glanced at Willow, but for the first time in a long while she didn't want to look at her. In that moment she wished more than anything that Lura wasn't right, but she instinctively knew that she was. "I know," she finally whispered.

"Then you know it's not going to work. Not long-term. Not forever."

"You're wrong," Mongrel sobbed, though she didn't believe her own words.

Lura simply nodded. "Maybe. I ... hope that I am. For your sake ... and hers."

Mongrel looked at Lura as if she was seeing her now for the first time. She didn't seem the monster that had haunted her dreams, the one who had ended her chance at a normal, happy life. She just looked tired. And sad.

She gave a weak smile and gestured towards where Willow lay softly dreaming of a world where hope still had some place. "Get some sleep. And ..." Lura seemed on the verge of saying something more, but then simply nodded and repeated, "Get some sleep."

Mongrel crawled away from their gaoler, laying down beside her love and wrapping her arms around her. Her hairy, ugly, filthy arms. She forced her eyes closed and pretended the tears running down her cheek were from the dusty cave air.

---

The first thing Willow noticed upon waking was that Mongrel was not lying next to her.

The second thing Willow noticed upon waking was that the universe had torn itself to shreds.

Willow scrambled into a crouch, her back against the wall. Something was wrong. She looked towards the other side of the cave and immediately wished she hadn't.

Mongrel and Lura were sitting facing towards her, their backs leaning against the opposite cave wall. This in itself wasn't particularly alarming. What was more concerning was that they were both staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, jaws slack as strings of drool dripped from both of their mouths. Their bodies were rigid, like they had been dead for several days. Willow noticed with dawning horror that neither was breathing.

She hoped that this was a nightmare. A different one than the ones she usually had, and for that she should almost count herself lucky. But she knew that it wasn't. There was the sharp pain as she dug her nails into her arms. The smell of the stale cave air. The feel of the cold sandy floor. And of course the fact that all of her nightmares revolved around Lura. This wasn't a dream.

"A word?"

Willow screamed at the voice, although she immediately knew who it belonged to. She looked to the mouth of the cave, slowly inching towards it, intending to step outside until she realized she wasn't staring at the exit at all. It--the shadow--was simply taking up the entire entryway, its pale white orbs regarding her as if she were a grasshopper caught in a jar.

One question above all others swam to the surface of her mind, and it was that question that she chose to vocalize. "W-W-What the fuck did you do to her?"

Shade's voice was monotone, disinterested, as if it were announcing its intention to sweep the floor. "I wished to speak to you in private." It paused, evidently determining that the answer did not need further clarification. When Willow continued inhaling in sharp, rapid breaths it must have deigned to elaborate. "I ... stopped them. Momentarily."

"You're hurting her!"

"I am not." It glanced towards them for a moment, two orbs simulating eyes rotating as if on a wheel in their direction before returning to Willow. "I would not. Not while I have plans for them."

"Why the fu--" Willow forced herself to stop. She didn't want to anger the absurd shadow for fear it would hurt her mate. Instead, she asked a ridiculous question. It seemed an appropriate time for ridiculous questions. "You can just ... do that?"

Shade's lidless "eyes" continued to regard her like a teacher waiting for a child to realize her inquiry was a silly one.

"N-No, I-I-I mean ..." She swallowed, afraid to vocalize the question.

"Speak."

Willow found a sort of idiotic courage springing from her core. Perhaps her time dwelling in the back alleys of the world had made her braver, or simply more foolhardy. Perhaps some of Mongrel's own innocent, honest determination was rubbing off on her. Perhaps she just didn't care if the horror wished her out of existence. "How many orphans did you create pulling this trick?" She sounded almost as forceful as Lura when addressing the monstrosity, but perhaps this was the best way to speak to it.

Again, it paused before answering. "I do not understand your ... Ah. I see now."

Lura had told them how its power worked. Whenever it acted upon the world, it had to take something away from it. To stop a storm it would mean causing an earthquake. To save one life it would need to end a dozen more. To stop a hurricane it would cause the collapse of an empire. What had this little parlor trick cost?

"None," it finally answered. "This display does not require resources to be diverted from elsewhere."

Resources. Willow wanted to vomit at what that word represented to this being. "How?"

The answer made her want to weep. "Because they already belong to me."

Willow glanced at Mongrel, praying to the deaf ears of the gods of her father that she was okay. "She doesn't," Willow whispered. "She doesn't belong to you. She never will."

"Nonsense." Again, like a parent telling a child that fire is hot.

"It isn't ..." Willow slowly turned, forcing her eyes away from her mate and towards the shadow. "But I guess you can't understand why. She's not yours." She's mine, Willow thought before adding, "And neither am I."

The eyes focused on her and for a moment Willow felt that she would cease to exist. Again.

"Yet."

Willow could hear a rumble in the distance, as if the world were falling away piece by piece into an abyss. It lasted for only a moment before Shade looked away.

"Why did you want to speak with me?"

Shade's answer came in the form of another question. "Why did you not want to be transformed?"

She felt her mouth go slack. What in the nine hells was it talking about? Did it even know?

"Into a ... a were--"

"Into a gahreer. Werewolf. Whatever they decide to call themselves." Willow found herself oddly wishing for the eyes to blink, to show some simple gesture made by a being of flesh and blood, no matter how minute. "Especially because your mate already is. I had thought this would have been a logical conclusion. And one that you would have agreed to easily. Even appreciated."

For a moment she considered lying. Perhaps she could say that her talents would be better put to use by someone who wasn't obviously inhuman. But again she felt her love's vacant eyes staring straight ahead as if peering into a world only she could see, and Willow was afraid what would happen to her if she didn't tell the truth.

"I love her," Willow finally whispered. "But I don't want to be like her. I don't want to be like the same ... creature as the one that ... that murdered my family." Again the foolish defiance flashed across her face as she cast her silent accusations upon the horror before her. Lura wasn't the only monster that had brought her home to ruin that day, and she hadn't acted alone.

"You would be more powerful. You know this, of course."

Where in the hells was it going with this? "I don't want power. I never have."

It paused, and Willow swore she could almost see it turning its head to the side in confusion. "And what is it that you do want?"

She turned her eyes to Mongrel, but had to quickly look away. She just couldn't see her like this, laying like a puppet still attached to its strings, waiting lifelessly until its master decided to play with it. "Her," she finally answered. "I just want her. And a home with her."

"I see." She very much doubted that it did. "And would your decision change if she was in danger?"

Willow shrugged. "We've been in danger before. We always pull through."

"And if her life was at stake?"

"There's never been a situation where I needed to save her. Even against your bitch monster over there." Willow smiled. "I don't save her. She saves me." A dagger driven into the monster's cheek. Her fangs sinking into her shoulder as the barn burned. Impaling her onto a wall after dropping a fucking building on her. Willow smiled. "She always saves me."

The eyes that weren't eyes turned in Mongrel's direction. Its response was again simply, "I see."

Willow started to ask again the purpose of this exchange. The words never left her lips, as she suddenly found herself being pelted with bits of brain, bone, lungs, and intestines. Numbly she regarded her hands, blood seeping through her fingers onto the cave floor. There was a bit of skin draped across her boots like a towel being left out to dry. It was only when she saw the sparse hairs growing on the flesh that she finally realized what had happened.

She screamed. She inhaled. She screamed again. It was the only action available to her. She wailed in terror and dismay, over and over until her throat was raw and she could no longer draw breath. And still somehow she kept screaming.

The woman she loved was no more. In her place was viscera, sinew, ligament, cartilage. Flesh, muscle, bone. The only part of Mongrel that was still recognizable was a clump of her long, beautiful dark hair now sliding wetly down the wall. Both Willow and Lura were now painted red with her blood, bits of gore woven through their hair, shards of bone sticking like splinters out of their exposed skin.

Willow was sure that she was making noise, but was almost certain she wasn't forming words. She looked at the monster, now entirely sure that its blank faceless expression somehow regarded her with curiosity. She was beyond tears, beyond hysterics. She now lived in a world composed only of herself, the monstrous shadow, and the lifeless gore that she had once planned to live her life alongside. Willow slowly reached for her knife, intending to slit her own throat as soon as possible. She couldn't continue living. Not after seeing this.

And then she was dry, clean--or as clean as she ever was. All of the red wet bits were drawn away, floating through the air, coalescing once again in the place where Mongrel had once sat. Wet flesh twisted and writhed in midair like sanguine worms as they formed a more-or-less human shape. Shards of bone drew together again. Flesh wrapped around bone, skin around flesh, hair around skin until Mongrel existed once again, staring vacantly ahead, still as a statue until the abomination was finished toying with her.

The entire horrid event had lasted only a few dozen heartbeats. Willow tried to tell herself that it hadn't happened. It was an illusion, a sadistically vivid one. It hadn't really happened. Her love hadn't really been torn into pieces and reformed.

It was a lie, and she knew it. But it was easier to pretend to believe a lie than to think about what had really just happened.

Willow finally found her tears, sobbing in maddened horror as she stared up at the creature, at the demon far crueler than anything its lieutenant was capable of, although it would never even understand why its actions were so horrible. Willow tried to ask the simple question "Why?" but her voice had deserted her again.

"Shall I repeat the demonstration?"

Was that what this was? Finally she was able to spit out the word. "Why?"

"For reasons I don't feel the need to share." It would've been better to hear malice in its voice. Some sort of sadistic glee. Anything, anything at all other than its hollow, calm cadence. "But I will do it. Again and again. A thousand, thousand times. Until the sun dies and the sightless idiot gods devour the world. And she will feel every ounce of pain, every shredded inch of skin, every broken bone piercing through her organs. She will feel it. Every time." It paused, and Willow almost shrieked as it looked again at Mongrel, anticipating it to follow through on its threat. "Unless you agree to become ... more useful."

"Why the fuck are you doing this?"

Another chillingly simple answer. "You already know."

But she didn't. She was absolutely certain of that. She had no idea what response it expected, what personal revelation was supposed to have suddenly dawned upon her. The only thing running through her mind was how it had felt to watch the cave walls bathed in her mate's blood.

"Does this change your mind?" the shadow asked. "Do you want the power to stop this?

"How?" she finally screamed. "How is being able to grow claws and fur and fangs going to keep you from doing it again? I couldn't stop you if I was a fucking werewolf any more than I can now."

Another pause. "True." The darkness of the cave seemed to lessen. "Relax, child. I have learned what I needed to learn. And you?"

"A-A-And ... what?"

"What have you learned tonight?"

Her response was immediate, without malice, and entirely honest. "I've learned you are insane. Completely, wholly, undeniably insane."

If it was offended at the accusation, it certainly didn't show it. "Perhaps." Shade seemed to be shrinking, although Willow realized it was simply sinking into the shadows in a corner of the cave as if it were a part of them. "You will not speak to this with the others. This is not a request. Your life, as theirs, depends entirely on your own continued usefulness to me. Sleep."

The white orbs faded to nothingness, merging with the harmless, everyday shadow of the cave. And then it was gone. Willow was certain it had left, as the cave no longer seemed quite as dark and cold. In further confirmation, Mongrel and Lura slumped to their side, unmoving but breathing steadily. Mongrel was snoring softly, Lura twitching in restless slumber. As if none of this had happened.

Willow threw herself upon her mate, wrapping her arms around her as if she were driftwood saving Willow from sinking into an endless, bottomless sea. The she-wolf groaned in her sleep, her eyes barely opening and focusing on her partner.

"Wha?" she groaned, only half-awake.

"You're okay," Willow whispered. "You're okay. You're okay."

And she was. But Willow was not. After tonight she never would be.

---

Willow was screaming as Mongrel gently shook her awake, her dreams filled with images of a shadow in the shape of Lura tearing her lover to pieces. For a moment the cave's rocky walls made her feel like she had at some point been buried in the earth. A small part of her wished that she had.

"Love, it's okay! Shh-shh-shh. It's okay." Willow looked into those deep brown pools flecked with orange and yellow, a face framed with hair and fur, a soft smile revealing sharp fangs. In the entirety of Willow's world, her mate's face was the happiest thing she could awaken to. It wasn't enough.

Still, Mongrel's clawed hands were rubbing her arms, the cold sweat soaking into her simple brown jerkin. She was freezing, despite being wrapped in the warm blankets and warmer arms of her partner. Mongrel placed the back of her hand on Willow's forehead, testing for a fever. When she was satisfied her partner wasn't sick, the half-wolf placed a soft kiss upon her forehead and held her tight. "You were having another bad dream. That's all. It's over now."

"It-It was different," Willow sputtered. "Not with her. It was ..."

You will not speak with this to the others, it had said.

This is not a request.

"What was it about?" Mongrel asked soothingly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was ..." Willow looked over Mongrel's shoulder at the patiently waiting Lura, a smirk of delight perched upon her dry lips like a carrion bird waiting for a small animal to die. "No. Sorry. It was just about her." Willow sat and forced herself to look away from Lura. "It's always just about her."

"I'm very popular!" Lura stood and gave a grandiose bow, her long fingers held to her chest and behind her back in an exaggerated gesture of faux civility. "It's nice to know you're always thinking about me." She stood normally, hovering over Willow's backpack again as if she were going to check for booze for the hundredth time. "I wonder how many people have the same dreams about me."

"Yeah," Willow muttered spitefully. "That seems like something you'd wonder about." She untangled her legs from her bedroll, taking Mongrel's offered hand as she rose to her feet, though she felt guilty about making her partner stand upright, even for a moment. "Do we have any more of that--"

"Rabbit jerky?" Lura finished. She stifled a belch as she scratched at her armpit. "No."

Willow gave a frustrated sigh. "Of course we don't. Guess we can get going then."

"Wait," Mongrel shyly implored. "Um ... About yesterday? When we were talking to ... it?"

The human woman closed her eyes for a moment, but forced them open. She couldn't keep thinking about Shade. If she dwelt any more on it the thoughts would keep eating away at her mind like a maggot feasting on dead flesh. "What about it?"

"I ... Look, you know that I want you to become ... like me. A werew--"

"Gahreer," Lura interrupted. "Say the right gods-damned word. The other one sounds so stupid." Her tone took on a mocking quality that seemed to fit her well. "'I'm a were-wolf! I'm a wolf but a were one.' The fuck does that even mean? Blegh."

Willow ignored the monster. This was thankfully becoming easier to do. "Mongrel ..."

"I know, I know." Mongrel sighed resignedly, tugging absentmindedly on the hairs on the back of her hand. "You don't want to. That's fine. I just ... I just want you to know that maybe one day--if you're ever ready--then we can--"

"I won't," the human interrupted. Willow hated that her words were so cold, so final, so heartless. "I won't be ready. Ever. I'm sorry."

Mongrel's deep brown eyes were unmoving. Still there was a sadness there, one that the she-wolf could barely veil. "Oh."

"Told you," taunted Lura. "Told you she never would. I'm not even being horrible--for once. I'm just looking out for you ... little sister."

"Fuck you," Mongrel growled, her eyes flashing like twin feral moons. "I'm not your fucking--"

"Wait. Wait wait wait wait." Willow glanced between Mongrel and the object of her nightly terrors incredulously. "When did you ..." Finally her gaze settled on her partner. "You were talking to her?! While I was asleep?!"

Mongrel shrugged, causing her long, shaggy brown hair to fall across her face, hiding her eyes. "I had questions."

"Mongrel. Listen to me. We don't talk to her. At all. We don't talk to the bitch. Any more than we have to."

"I had questions," she repeated.

"Fuck that." Lura crossed her arms, turning her head to the side to spit into the sand. She managed not to get any on her chin this time. "She's not a child. You don't get to order her around. She can decide what--"

"Not about this, she can't."

"What?" Mongrel's uniform brow rose in disbelief. "I mean ... Willow ..." The half-wolf looked up at Willow, but her eyes were fixed solely on their captor, and Willow was afraid she saw a momentary spark of kinship there. "Fine," Mongrel said softly. "Whatever. I'll meet you outside." She finished with a mutter of, "If that's okay" before crawling on her hands and feet outside of the cave.

"M?" Willow called, but her mate was gone, leaping swiftly away into the brush. Willow had never seen her like this.

"Good job, pup." The last word was accentuated, followed again by that sadistic smile. "Oops. Sorry. You probably don't like that word."

Willow bent to retrieve her pack, throwing it over her shoulder before adjusting the weight of her sword. "Shut up."

"No, really. Seems like a very healthy relationship." Lura was practically skipping, delighting in whatever petty jab she could take at her prisoners. "Does she check in with you about everything? When to eat, when to sleep? Do you let her take a piss without your permission, or is that part of the whole master-dog-thing you two have going on? Does Wiwwow take her doggie for walkies?"

"Where are we going?" Willow demanded. Anything to change the subject.

The giant shrugged. "Wherever the big spooky thing said we are--"

"Which direction?"

Lura seemed to be trying not to smile as she pointed to the east with a clawed finger.

Willow set off in that direction, knowing Mongrel would follow behind them eventually if she hadn't gone that way already.

"Hey," Lura called from behind her. Willow hadn't realized how much Lura's voice echoed in the cave interior until she was standing outside of it. "You're going to have to make a choice. And you need to make the right one. For her. Or end it now. Anything other than that is just mistreating her."

Willow made a show of not breaking her stride. There was nothing Lura could say that held any value to her whatsoever. And she wasn't saying anything that Willow hadn't already told herself.

---

It was nearing the end of the day when they came across the hut and the marker. At least, that's what Willow assumed it was. The hollow eyes of the deer mounted upon a short post seemed to exist as a simple warning to stay away. Its vacant eyes seemed somehow to be pleading for help.

"Here we go. Should we knock?" Lura rapped her knuckles on the hollow nose of the skull and made a loud clicking noise with her tongue. The gesture caused Mongrel to actually chuckle, which in itself made Willow recoil in horror. "Guess we'll let ourselves in," Lura finally decided.

The shack itself was miserable. Willow didn't know a better word to describe it. The walls were tan soil packed against rotten wood, with a fur tarp covering the small entryway. The only decoration that marked the place as the abode of a living person were more animal skulls piled up on either side of the doorway. Willow's own childhood shack was a palace in comparison.

"Shouldn't we talk to her first?" Mongrel asked, sniffing the air like a hound searching for a hare. She glanced up at the barren swaying trees as if the forest itself held some answer.

"Nnnnope," replied their guide.

"So we're just going to ... go into her home and kill her?"

"Yyyyep."

Mongrel looked at Willow for support. It was the first time she'd acknowledged her in the past six hour trek. "This doesn't seem right."

Willow started to reply before the monster cut her off.

"It isn't." Lura stretched, rubbing at the small of her back as she almost violently scratched her scalp. "Usually isn't, anyway. I mean, if it helps you get over your--conscience? Is that what those are called?--then you can rest assured this isn't a good person. She's a magic user. I can count on one hand the number of decent folk I've murdered that used magic. She's almost certainly eating kittens or something as we speak."

"It still doesn't seem--fuck!" Mongrel suddenly began gnawing on her forearm.

"M?"

"Fleas," Lura offered. "They're fucking everywhere here. But it's a gahreer thing. You wouldn't understand." She smiled innocently, that same sneer of petty malevolence Willow was becoming disturbingly more familiar with every hour they were forced to travel with her.

Willow ignored the slight. That was something else she was becoming quite practiced at doing. "We should wait until dark. Right?" Willow noticed a tick on the back of her hand and plucked it away swiftly. There definitely did seem to be an abundance of parasites in the forest. This wasn't something Willow would have expected. The entire place was dead, the tall trees leaning left and right with the slightest breeze as if they were about to topple at any moment. They hadn't seen a single four-legged creature, so what the hell were they eating?

"Why?" asked Lura, who had ceased scratching her head in favor of digging into her groin.

"Why wait? I dunno, to catch her by surprise?" Willow raised a brow. "Haven't you done this shit like ... a thousand times?"

Lura snorted. "Think you might be forgetting something?"

"What?" Willow sighed. It was exhausting trying to discern whatever Lura was currently talking about. She alternated so rapidly between malevolence, pettiness, and occasional bouts of humanity that it was almost like talking to three separate people. Willow was becoming frustrated as she tried to track of which Lura she was talking to. "What am I forgetting, Lura?"

"That I'm me?"

Willow blinked, again trying to discern the thought process of an insane person.

"She'll be dead before she realizes we're here." Lura lowered her voice. "Geez, you'd think you'd never seen me murder anyone before." This caused her to giggle gleefully.

"Why are we even here?" Mongrel asked their insane guide. "Me and Willow?"

At this, Lura seemed to become more serious, although it lasted just a moment before she returned to a casual expression of sadistic glee. Still, there was something there, something just barely noticeable. Something she was hiding, and whatever it was it had to do with the real reason she was forcing them to travel with her. "Moral support," she lied. "Or because it's been a while since I've had an audience. Or something. Who the fuck cares?" She ran her fingers through her thick, messy brown hair. "You two need to learn how to focus on getting the job done and leave the moral dilemmas for someone not working for an eldritch abomination. I suppose you two can ..." She waved her hand in a circle, searching for whatever fake reason she could come up with. "Keep a lookout for minions or something? They usually have familiars. Cats. Or wolves. Fuck, I hope it's not wolves."

Mongrel sniffed the air again. She shook her head at Willow, silently confirming a question she needn't even bother asking. There was no one nearby other than the three lost souls and the soon-to-be-deceased hag. Still, there was a look on her face that indicated she had smelled something unexpected. "Should we ... change?"

"You ... aren't wearing clothes, remember?" Lura seemed genuinely confused by the question.

Mongrel shook her head. "No, I mean ... You know what I mean."

"Oh!" Lura shrugged. "Sure. I guess it is kinda chilly."

The wolf-girl nodded, took a deep breath to steel herself before she closed her eyes. It wasn't often that she chose to transform without any reason to. The change was an automatic response whenever she became frightened, or angry, or sexually aroused. Willow couldn't remember the last time she took on her werewolf--her gahreer--form without being prodded by some external reason. Willow smiled. An external reason like her tongue against her clit.

"Well?" The impatient madwoman brought Willow out of a happy thought. Lura started tapping her bare foot before slapping at a mosquito. "Shy bladder or something? Can't go while everyone's watching? Or ... fuck me, you aren't going to need her to start finger-fucking you, right? Gods below, why the fuck don't you have any whiskey?"

Mongrel closed her eyes as she arched her back, her spine suddenly pressing against the hairy skin on her back. As she opened her eyes, the brown of her irises had completely shifted, one to orange and the other to yellow.

"Oh. Good." Lura leaned against a tree as if waiting for a carriage. "Take your fucking time then."

Willow knelt before Mongrel, rubbing her fingers behind her lengthening ears. "You're okay?" It was a silly question. Of course she was. But Mongrel appreciated the kind gesture nonetheless.

The half-wolf gave a simple nod, smiling as her yellow fangs continued to lengthen. Her body began to swell, her arms packing on lean muscle from seemingly nowhere as her growing claws dug into the sandy earth. Mongrel's foot began to lengthen, forcing her to stand on the balls of her feet. For a moment she lost her balance before Willow put both of her arms around her shoulders to steady her. Mongrel's long tongue slipped from her lips as she began to pant. Their earlier disagreement seemed forgotten as she began to softly lap at her mate's hand.

Mongrel continued growing larger as a tail slipped from her ass, lazily drifting back and forth as it fanned her scent into the air. As it grew, Willow brushed her hand through it, combing out a few bits of dirt and grass. Mongrel's hands began to lose most of their dexterity as she leaned on her haunches, embarrassingly glancing towards Lura as she ran her paws down her teats, six additional breasts swelling into being alongside her original pair. She threw her head back, wincing in pain as her muzzle began to lengthen. Willow hugged her mate, knowing that her lengthening maw always seemed to cause her the most discomfort. She gently placed a kiss on her wet, black nose as it slid into place with a sickening crunch. Mongrel leaned into the caress, the transformation slowing as her fur thickened, hiding her pale skin beneath an undercoat as she slowly rose to her lupine rear paws, now towering above her mate.

"Okay?" Willow asked again.

The beautiful monster gave a simple nod before turning to Lura, her head cocked to the side in an expression of canine inquiry.

"Adorable," Lura sighed. "I hate you both, but you're adorable ..." She blinked as the pair continued staring at her expectantly. "What?"

"You're ... not ... changing?" Mongrel had to force the words out slowly. It always took her a few moments after the transformation before her vocal chords seemed to adjust enough to form words, and even when they did she still had to force them out.

"If it'll make you feel better, sure." Lura pulled her shirt off without a hint of shame, pausing to lift her breasts a bit as she bent closer to look at Mongrel's four pairs.

"What the fuck are you doing?" hissed Willow.

"Her tits better not be bigger than mine. I'll kill you both. Seriously." Lura pulled off her trousers, tossing them to the side and standing nude before the pair. Her body was lean, athletic, with a dusting of hair on her arms, legs, and belly. She was conventionally attractive in her human form--large breasts, thick brown hair, an infuriatingly pleasant smile--while Mongrel had to endure being stuck in a body she hated, trapped forever between the body of a human and a werewolf.

Willow suddenly realized she hadn't ever actually seen Lura in her feral form. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the sight and trying to remain as calm as she could.

She had only a few seconds to wait.

Lura shifted, transforming entirely into her werewolf form. It was over before Willow could even gasp at the transformation. Within the space of a heartbeat she had shifted from woman to canine monstrosity as casually as when she had disrobed and with seemingly as much effort.

"You changed ... so fast!" Mongrel growled in honest amazement.

The other she-wolf simply shrugged her large furry shoulders.

"How?" Mongrel whined softly, envious of their captor. "Does it ... get ... easier?"

Another dismissive shrug. Willow hated everything about this woman.

There were as many similarities between the two creatures as there were differences. Mongrel's coat was a mixture of brown, red, gray, and just a touch of white. In contrast, Lura's was uniform, a deep rich brown the color of an ancient tree, a well-worn dirt road, the mud on a riverbottom. Her eyes were both yellow whereas Mongrel's were two mismatched colors. The most noticeable physical difference was her size; there was as much difference in height between Lura and Mongrel as there was between Mongrel and Willow. She towered over the smaller wolf by at least two feet, and must have outweighed her by several dozen pounds.

She had said she was as strong, as large, as fast as the world needed her to be. Willow didn't really understand what she had meant until she saw her looming above her like a headsman's ax preparing to strike.

Still, it wasn't the physical differences that were so striking. Even when Willow had first seen Mongrel in her bestial form she had appeared ... normal? Or as normal as one of her kind could seem. Half woman, half wolf, possessing the grace of the wild mixed with the soft deep eyes Willow had fallen in love with a decade ago.

In contrast, Lura was ... wrong. She radiated a feeling of danger, of malevolence, the petty cruelty one expects from a housecat that was toying with a mouse, prolonging its suffering until it grew bored and slowly devoured it. Where Mongrel seemed graceful, Lura was blunt, like a medic's knife held next to a cudgel. If Mongrel seemed like a calculating hunter, Lura was like an avalanche waiting to happen--still and quiet until ...

Until she wasn't.

Lura casually slid up to Mongrel, hefting her second pair of breasts as she glanced appraisingly at the smaller wolf's chest. "Hey, stand up straight for a minute."

"Can we please fucking do this so I can go back to only having to deal with you in my nightmares?" Willow groaned.

"Aw, but why?" the large wolf whined. Lura unfortunately also seemed to have no trouble speaking in this form. "This is fun! Look at ussss, all working together and going on crazy adventures. We should keep this going! Let bygones be bygones, that sort of bullshit. Have girls' nights out! Braid each other's hair, talk about boys ... Whoops, sorry, guess that's not something you two are interested in. But, hey, just think! One day soon we'll laugh about the time I tore your mommy's throat out."

Willow gave no response. There was none that was worth it. The satisfaction Willow felt from watching Lura's disappointment in failing to get under her skin was greater than she felt comfortable admitting. Instead, she turned to Mongrel. "Let her do the work. Anything dangerous. You just stay out of her way and be safe, okay? Don't take any risks. Maybe we'll get lucky and the old woman will kill her and we can go home." She awkwardly kissed Mongrel on her snout, laughing softly as her tail began to wag a bit.

"Gods, I hope she does," the madwoman complained. "Spare me from watching the two of you mouth-fucking. It's like a frog kissing a lion. Or a ... roach?" Lura lifted her arm as she noticed several of the aforementioned insects crawling on it. "What in the f--"

Lura was suddenly screaming in agony as hundreds, thousands, of pests fell upon her, driving the bitch to her knees with the sheer pressure of writhing, wretched life. The she-wolf tried to rise to her feet, but immediately slipped as the ground itself began to shift, the pinnacle of predation brought low by the lowest of nature's creatures. Worms were rising from the earth, some as tiny as a strand of hair, others as long as a snake. As she reached for a tree to steady herself, her arm was suddenly covered in millipedes, sinking their pincers into her flesh as her own blood started to stain her dark fur. Spiders. Biting flies. Even rats were feasting on nearly every inch of her body.

And now they were landing on Mongrel.

"Move!" Willow screamed, although it was entirely unnecessary. Before the word was out of her mouth, Mongrel had scooped her mate up and was soon cradling her in one arm as she leapt onto a large branch dozens of feet above. Willow had never seen her mate jump so far, nor move so quickly. A few spiders had landed on Mongrel's shoulder but were swiftly brushed aside.

"Okay?" the wolf growled out. Willow swiftly nodded as the pair regarded the thrashing, screaming form of their captor below them, now buried underneath a writhing blanket of verminous filth.

The two exchanged a glance.

"Front," growled Mongrel.

"Back," confirmed Willow.

Within moments they were back on the ground, sprinting towards the witch's hut, Willow on two feet and her mate on four. Silver sword in hand, Willow slipped around the corner, gasping in shocked revulsion at the mangled, half-devoured remains of foxes, raccoons, and badgers that lay against the side of the shack. There was even an animal so large it must have rivaled Mongrel's size when it was alive. Willow wondered if this was one of the creatures her father used to tell her scary stories about when she was a child. Its vacant eye sockets and flayed skin were more terrifying than anything he had ever shared with her.

The witch was screaming before Willow had even rounded the corner to the rear of the hut. She had assumed the hovel would have a back entrance for air circulation, and had guessed right. The startled sounds from within heralded Mongrel's arrival. Willow reached the leather tarp serving as the back door just as it was flung aside, and was soon greeted with the site of the filthy, ancient hag fleeing from her partner.

Only the hag wasn't a hag at all. The woman was younger than Willow, beautiful in her own strange way, with copper skin and eyes shaped like almonds. Her body was smeared in dirt, mud, and probably other matter Willow would rather not think about. There was a look of terror in her eyes, probably due to her being unused to a giant she-wolf bursting into her abode. She was entirely nude, save for a few fetishes hanging around her neck, teeth of several shapes, some animal, some likely human. The wretch screamed in shock at finding Willow standing in her path, though she didn't slow her retreat. Given the choice of facing Willow or the monster that had burst through her front door, she had opted for the former. Willow raised her sword, but found herself hesitating before she struck.

Why are we even here? Mongrel's words echoed in Willow's ears. She was right. This wasn't a fight Willow or her partner had any reason to take part in. They knew absolutely nothing about this young woman, other than she possessed some apparent control over nature's most loathsome creatures. Willow couldn't conceive of any possibility wherein the fate of the world hung at the mercy of a lonely hermit living alone in the woods with her rats and roaches. Willow saw over her shoulder that her mate was slowing her own advance, her ears lowered and her tail between her legs, hinting that she was having similar reservations.

Willow glanced from her mate to the strange young woman before she slowly lowered her sword. "Wait," she softly spoke.

It was the only word she would have time to say. Willow was suddenly assaulted by a swarm of gnats, locusts, mosquitos, and creatures far worse that she couldn't begin to guess the names of. They pushed her away from their master, nearly sending her sprawling on her back as they began gnawing at her, stinging, pinching, burrowing into her ears, her mouth ...

The corners of her eyes.

Mongrel's brief moment of clarity ended immediately as she roared and leapt, nearly crashing into the witch before she was suddenly lifted into the air by a serpent larger than Willow had ever seen. The creature was long enough to circle around the house at least thrice, and it was not alone. Another wrapped around Mongrel's claw even as she slashed towards the wretch, another latching onto her leg and spinning her upside down while the first sank its fangs into her torso, injecting her with its venom. Mongrel gave a piteous wet growl, her saliva pouring from her mouth in the form of white foam.

Yet still the witch seemed terrified, glancing to the left and right, trying to decide which direction would provide her the best chance of escape. Willow tried to shut her eyes, but they were being forced open by something, a centipede, perhaps a worm. Whatever it was, it was beginning to chew at her eyelids.

And then the hut exploded.

Shards of wood, mud, and straw were suddenly thrown into the air as a comet burst through the entire dwelling, crashing into the witch and driving her to the muddy ground with a shriek of despair. For a moment Willow assumed that the Shade had made its presence known, interfering in the fight when it was obvious its agents had failed. Then Willow realized the meteor had fangs and claws. Lura had apparently recovered, though even now her brown fur writhed as maggots slithered beneath her skin, peeling it away from her arms, her back, even her face.

Throughout all the times she had seen Lura carrying out her master's orders, she had never before seen her angry. Bored, callous, tired, even mirthful. Never angry. That was no longer the case. There was a fury in her eyes, a madness that belittled any horror the witch was capable of summoning. If Shade heralded the eventual end of the world, then it had chosen its agent well.

With a quick glance at her mate, Willow saw that Mongrel's eyes were full of shame and regret. Even dangling in the air and fighting for her life, she didn't want Lura to do this.

The arch-wolf let out a roar as her teeth wrapped around the woman's throat, turning to the side and preparing to snap her neck. Willow thought she heard the words "Kill you" within the low growl, but she couldn't be sure.There was simply too much fury in the sound, a frenzied anger born of pain and revulsion. Lura's teeth began to pierce her skin, her paws wrapping around her waist as if she were prepared to simply tear her in two. It was like she was debating which manner of death would be the most excruciating for the witch.

The hesitation saved the woman's life.

"Stop."

Suddenly it was there, looming above the ruins of the shack, its "head" high enough to nearly touch the lowest branches of the small clearing. Even now it seemed disinterested, almost bored with the scene of carnage below it, like it was waiting patiently for its command to sink in.

Lura released her hold, tossing the witch to the side and rounding on Shade on all fours as if she were stalking some newly arrived prey. "What?!"

"Stop," it repeated. "Was the word somehow unclear?"

The witch spat blood, scrambling away on hand and foot until she noticed the looming shadow. She let loose a scream of despair that swiftly turned into maddened laughter at the ridiculous apparition before her.

"Restrain her."

Lura hesitated only a moment before screaming in frustration, her voice entirely human despite her monstrous appearance. Without looking at the witch she brought her paw down, wrapping her claws around her neck and pinning her to the ground roughly.

Almost immediately, Mongrel came crashing to the ground next to Willow. The insects were retreating now, some crawling away, some flying, but most merely falling from Willow's body as if suddenly disoriented. The trio of serpents that had restrained Mongrel slithered closer to their master, as though they seemed to have realized the battle had ended. Mongrel began to vomit, dark foam spewing from her throat as her body tried to rid itself of the poison.

"M? Love?" Willow coughed.

Mongrel nodded, even as she continued to void her stomach. She glanced at Willow weakly as she wiped the sickness on the back of her furry arm. Her mate was shaken, wounded, but alive and recovering.

"This cunt's bugs just ate my fucking face!" Lura tore part of the flayed skin on her forehead away, apparently preferring to allow it to regrow anew. Willow supposed the process must be faster, though she very much had no intention of finding out if that was true. The sight of a werewolf tearing off part of its face was something she'd never forget. The bloodflow from Lura's wounds slowed almost immediately, turning to a simple trickle of crimson until that too ceased as her flesh began to mend itself. "I'm killing this bitch ... Right?!"

"You are not," Shade droned. "I have found a better use for her."

"You what?!"

The shadow's answer was to turn its gaze upon the trembling young woman, whose laughter ceased immediately. Willow wondered if Shade was speaking to her, invading her mind as it had her own, tearing the world apart and leaving the witch naked and afraid before the looming, vast nothingness. She wasn't entirely sure if the exchange was happening, but for some reason had a feeling it was not. This was something different.

The witch screamed, holding her sides as her whole body trembled, only held in place by Lura's paw. Her eyes opened for just a moment, just long enough to glance at her "pets" as if asking them for help.

In response, they died.

Gnats, wasps, roaches, all of the witch's minions that could fly, fell lifelessly to the ground. The writhing mass of filth slowed as their short lives were rendered shorter. Willow almost felt sorry for the rats, who simply stopped breathing and fell to their sides, their twitching legs the only indication that they had recently been alive.

"Willow?" Mongrel was pointing at the trio of serpents that had recently coiled around her body in order to crush her. They too closed their eyes and simply ceased breathing. This time Willow felt genuine sorrow. The creatures were relics from the old world, wondrous beasts that had once slithered through the grass and rivers of jade forests the likes of which would never be seen again. They were witnessing the deaths of legends, of ancient precious beings that deserved so much more than the broken world could ever have offered them.

"Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me." Lura almost released her grip on the woman's neck. Her black lips curled into a grimace, long fangs grinding together hard enough that Willow believed she could almost hear them. She had to remind herself that this was a sapient creature. "You absolutely, undeniably have to be fucking--"

"B-B ... Babies?"

The word gave pause to the entire group, even the shadow. The witch began to sob and scream as she struggled to escape the she-wolf's grasp.

"You may release her," Shade calmly offered before adding, "She won't be going anywhere."

Lura released her, mumbling an almost remorseful "Fuck" as she stalked away. Her yellow eyes lingered on the witch's destroyed hut, probably wondering if it were worth sifting through the rubble in case there was some buried alcohol.

"Oh, no," Mongrel whispered. "Oh no no no."

Willow looked at her mate, feeling like she was the only one who wasn't sure what was happening to the young woman. "M?"

Still sobbing, the witch crawled towards the bodies of the three serpents, scooping up handfuls of assorted insects as she went. The only words Willow could make out were "babies" and "no." She seemed to care as much about the deceased vermin and pests as she did the trio of giant snakes. She had made it only about halfway before she stopped, rising onto her knees and examining her hands with a shriek of disbelief. Her fingernails had started growing into points, clear dirty keratin enveloping the tips of her fingers. She looked in terror at each of her tormentors, at which point Willow saw that her canine teeth were lengthening into fangs while her front teeth were growing larger as well, now resembling something one would find on a mouse or rat.

"Oh," Willow whispered.

Something was off about the transformation, though. Willow hadn't witnessed Mongrel's initial change. She had been too busy staring vacantly at one of the walls in her small home as Lura murdered her neighbors. But she had seen her shifting enough times to recognize the poor young woman's change was as similar as it was different. The witch scrambled to her feet, only to fall again as they began to stretch longer, the skin turning pink as sparse black hairs grew from her toes even as they too began to lengthen into claws.

"What are you doing to me?!" the poor wretch screamed, although none of her attackers had an answer for her. The only thing that did was the looming specter of cosmic nonsense that casually watched the transformation with mild interest. Her arms were bulking up slightly, thin wiry muscles pushing against her flesh as more and more greasy black hairs began to spring from her arms, her legs, her chest. Her ears fanned out to the size of her hands even as they slid higher on her head. Small pink welts were beginning to swell into being in two rows along her torso, ten sets of teats marking her as little more than one of the animals she had thought of as her own children. A rank odor suffused her, a rancid smell not unlike the strange mixture of scents given off by the dozens of species of vermin she had recently commanded. Sweat was dripping from her every pore as she forced herself onto all fours, her feet stretching painfully until she would have to stand on the balls of her feet. The soles weren't covered in the thick black padding that Mongrel had on her own transformed feet.

The witch let loose a piercing scream of disbelief as she pawed between her legs, her sex and anus shifting backwards to rest just under the hairless tail that was slowly pushing its way from her rear. It slid longer, bereft of the hair that covered the rest of the woman's body.

A rat, Willow finally realized. Not a wolf, she's turning into a rat.

It didn't take long for Willow to be proven wrong. The tail slithered longer and longer as the wretch continued to sob, although where Willow suspected to find the scaly tail of a rodent it was instead slimy, surrounded by rings of bulbous flesh down its entire length. Wetness dripped along its sickly pink skin, an earthy smell now almost suffusing the rest of the scents the poor creature was giving off. Willow knew she had seen the texture before, and recently, but couldn't place it yet. The woman lifted her ass into the air as she covered her eyes, no doubt wanting to pretend her horrible changes weren't really happening. She let loose another screech as yet another tail started to slide from her backside, then one covered in green scales almost like ...

Like the dead serpents laying near her. It dawned on Willow then that the witch was changing not into one creature. Each species that made up her mutating body was one that made up the hundreds of thousands of vermin surrounding her. The wretch rose to her gnarled feet as her tails finished growing, now nearly twice her own length and dragging the ground--one slithering almost gracefully through the dead grass, the other attempting to burrow into the soil as if to make its escape. The witch made it only a few feet before she had to stop, screaming and weeping in denial as her face stretched into a short, boxy snout even as dark black antennae started to slip out of her forehead, her maw now adjoined by twin pincers. She fell to her side, curling herself into a ball as with a wet tearing sound two additional pairs of arms bloodless tear from her sides, two the shape of a spider's legs, the others the wriggling legs of a roach. Her new appendages immediately found their way to her face in order to cover her now-segmented eyes from the faceless horror that had ruined her body and soul.

The horrible amalgam of vermin continued to cry. "You killed them," she sobbed. Even in the midst of this horrible transformation, she was weeping for the loss of her pets. She barely noticed the razor-thin translucent wings that slipped from her back, twitching in sorrow as the witch's transformation seemed to come to an end. The monster uncovered its face, her lifelessly blood-red, many-faceted eyes almost seeming to seek sympathy from the assortment of even worse monsters surrounding her. Despite being the only human present, Willow counted herself amongst those monsters for what she had done to the young woman.

"Soooo, now what?" Lura calmly growled over the wretched sobs of the amalgam of vermin. "You've made yourself a new recruit? Didn't even ask her to play along this time--that's certainly a new low, even for you. Are we supposed to shake her hand and welcome her into the club?" She added in a low whisper, "Gods below, what the fuck did you do to her?"

"To whom?" the shadow replied, its voice level, calm, almost distracted.

Lura looked more confused than the others had ever seen her. "What? To whom?" She pointed at the creature, now crawling onto her feet and three sets of hands. "To the fucking monster that ..." Willow was surprised to find a look of pity in her captor's eyes. "Her!"

And then Shade gave a response that caused Willow's heart to sink to her stomach. Mongrel gasped and slid her paw into Willow's hand at the words, sobbing at the simple horrid question that Shade uttered. Lura's response was the worst of all, an expression of sheer terror crossing her wolfish face.

"Who are you talking about?"

The soulless white orbs spun in the other direction now, though oddly enough they were still visible through its "body." It seemed to be searching for something, or listening to a whisper on the wind that only it could hear. Whatever it was doing, it was not paying attention to the events it had caused.

"Sh-Shade ...?" Lura finally snapped out of her terrified trance, glancing back and forth between the mostly-rat creature as she rose to a crouch. "Are you joking? No, of course you aren't."

It was obvious to Willow that Shade had no idea what she was talking about. It had forgotten why it had sent them here in the first place.

It had forgotten about the life it had just ruined only moments ago.

The witch crouched low, both of its tails lifted above its head--one scaly, one slimy. From the end of both slipped forth the wicked stinger of a scorpion, and both poised to strike at Lura. The large she-wolf sighed, preparing to defend herself until the witch leapt into the air, and with a deafening buzzing sound lifted herself higher and higher, until she had disappeared beyond the surrounding dead trees.

The group was silent until Mongrel quietly asked, "D-Do we ... go after her?"

"No," Lura whispered. "No, we do not." She motioned to the other two, her paws lowering to the ground as she signaled for them to remain as unnoticed as they could be.

"Meet me three days to the west," Shade commanded. "Go into the wilderness. Follow the dry riverbed nearby. You must have followed it here when you decided to waste time hiking through the forest for whatever reason you deemed more important than my orders. I have a new task for you. One of grave importance. Do not delay. Do not disappoint."

And then it was gone again, the weary leafless trees swaying like cattails where once the shadow had stood.

The trio was silent again, though Willow knew what each of them was no doubt thinking.

Mongrel was again the first to speak. "That's it, just walk west for three days? H-How is it going to ... know where we'll be exactly?"

Lura growled in annoyance as she swiftly shifted back to her human form, casting her gaze around her as she searched for where she had left her clothing. When she couldn't immediately spot her shirt and breeches she rounded on Mongrel, childishly searching for another target in which to direct her ire. "Haven't you been paying attention? Haven't you been listening? Using your fucking pretty little eyes and ears?" She kicked a loose board from atop the toppled hut, slicing a rather nasty cut across her foot in the process, though Willow doubted she even noticed. "In case you haven't, let me help you figure it out. It knows everything. It is everywhere. It's always listening, it's always watching, and it always will be. You need to wise up, little pup. You need to realize what situation you're in--that WE'RE in. You and your cunt girlfriend. We don't know if it'll wake up one day and forget we all exist, or if it'll decide we're not useful and just wish us out of existence, or-or-or ..." She glanced above in the direction the witch had flown. "You think I'm the one keeping you here? I'm fucking nothing. It has all of us, me just as much as you, and you're a fucking idiot if--"

Willow's silver dagger plunged into the soft skin on Lura's bare shoulder even before she realized she had moved. Lura seemed genuinely shocked, and surprisingly in pain at the attack. This was the dumbest decision Willow had made in a lifetime filled with dumb decisions, but the choice had been made and there was no going back. Maybe if she continued to press the attack she could cause her to stumble. Mongrel would be behind her soon, and together they would press their advantage. They could break free of the bitch and the living nightmare she'd had dragged them into. Then they could go home, wherever home was, and they'd be together and they'd be happy and they'd be safe and--

The human woman found herself suddenly tackled to the ground, her hand forced away from where it had been reaching for the hilt of her sword. It took Willow a moment before she realized that it was Mongrel who had stopped the assault.

Willow struggled to escape from the arms of the person she loved most in the world. "M? What in the nine fucking hells are you doing?!"

"It's over, Willow! It's over. You heard it speaking, it has no idea what it's even doing anymore. It's fucking crazy. If we hurt her it-it could kill us both or-or-or worse. Willow, she was telling the truth back in the city. Kill her and it might mean the end of the world."

"I don't care!" She was crying now, and she hated herself for it. "I don't fucking care! This bitch already ended my world when she killed my parents! When she took you away from me! When she made you into this! My whole world is already dead."

"Mine isn't," Mongrel softly whispered. "Because you're in it. That's enough for me. I-I thought it was enough for you, too."

Willow couldn't stop the tears now, all the insane events of the past few days pouring from her as she buried her face into Mongrel's strong arms, her mismatched fur soaking up her tears.

"It's okay," the wolf reassured her. "It's okay. We'll find a way out. Away from her and away from it and away from all of this."

Willow pulled away just enough to look in Lura's direction, afraid that she was going to attack the both of them while they were caught in the moment. Instead, the look of rage that Willow expected to find was absent from their captor's face. Lura looked sad. Afraid. Hopeless.

Human.

---

The sun was beginning to set as the tired group shuffled back into the cave once again. Willow hadn't expected to see the place again, but after their entirely pointless task had been completed it was the most sensible place to stop given they were now heading in the direction from which they had arrived. After the long trek Willow was satisfied to have anywhere to rest. She tossed her backpack to the ground roughly and slumped down in the spot she had slept the night before, curling her knees to her chest and laying her head on her crossed arms.

The warmth of Mongrel's presence was comforting as the half-wolf slid down next to her, leaning her head onto Willow's shoulder. She had returned to her more-or-less human form, her thick fur giving way to tanned skin covered by sparse hair. Of course Willow loved her in any form she took, but she had hoped she'd keep her wolf form. She was looking forward to curling up next to her large warm body, safe in her lupine arms that were almost strong enough to keep the nightmares away.

One of those nightmares was even now rummaging through her backpack. Again.

"Lura," Willow moaned. She was so tired. So gods-damned tired. "We. Don't. Have. Any. Fucking. Whiskey."

Lura snorted in amusement. "Not looking for whiskey. For once. Where do you keep your ... Oh, here we go."

The two groaned as they looked up at her, dreading whatever petty slight the madwoman was prompting now. Instead, Willow was surprised to find she had extracted a piece of flint.

"I'll go gather some firewood. Maybe find a rabbit ... Or, hey, gotta be fish in this stream, right?" She kicked a rock into the dusty remains of the long-dried stream. "Big salmon or something? Or do those only swim in the ocean? I guess you two would know."

The couple regarded Lura as if she had decided to grow four additional heads. Lura smirked and left the pair alone, wandering through the dust in search of driftwood.

"She's being nice?" Mongrel whispered. "I'm scared."

"Probably going to kill us in our sleep or something. Trying to play it off."

"That's fine." Mongrel yawned. "Dead people are probably less tired than I am."

Willow merely grunted in agreement.

The she-wolf sniffed at Willow's neck. Willow peaked at her in confused amusement.

"You smell good," Mongrel whispered.

"I smell awful," Willow replied. "I smell like I've been walking through a hot dead forest for a whole day."

"Smell good to me."

"Weirdo."

"Yeah." The half-wolf sighed. "Wish we weren't following a maniac around. I really, really wouldn't mind some 'us' time right now."

Willow giggled like she had when she was a child and the world still made some semblance of sense. "Horny wolf girl."

"Always."

Willow fell to her side in the dirt, Mongrel sliding on top of her as they lay in the dust. She supposed she should unroll her bedroll but she simply didn't have the energy. But the sand was cool and soft and she was just beginning to drift off when Lura made her return.

The giant paused at the mouth of the cave upon noticing the others laying in a tired heap. "Sorry," she mumbled as she dropped an armful of dry wood on the ground. "You two rest. Didn't find any fishies but I haven't given up yet." She stood, and the look on her face indicated to Willow that she had something she wanted to say. Instead, she smiled shyly and left in search of supper.

"Mongrel, what the fuck is she doing?"

Her partner gave a long pause before responding, and when she did it was not about their demented captor. "Willow ... What did we do today?"

Willow knew what she meant immediately. "Something bad," she whispered.

"We ruined that poor woman's life. It-It's like we killed her. Just like we killed the ..."

The boy back in Sailor's Piss. The slaver's son. Willow had almost forgotten, and she hated herself a little more for forgetting. How many days ago was it? One? Two? A thousand?

Their hands met without either thinking of reaching for the other. "Maybe ... Maybe Lura was right," Willow reasoned. "Maybe if she was a witch--a real witch--then she was someone that needed to be stopped." She knew the words were foolish even as she spoke them.

"That's the point, though. We'll never know. She could've been the most evil witch in the whole world or-or ... just some lady who wanted to live alone with her ... pets." Mongrel's hand was trembling slightly. "She ... really seemed to love them."

"It ...Shade ... The fucking thing didn't even see her. It sent us there and it didn't even remember doing it. And we're running around doing whatever it tells us to do? M, we need to leave. Now."

Mongrel's response came in the form of a tiny groan of affirmation, followed by soft snores. She must have simply been unable to stay awake a moment longer.

Willow closed her eyes. "Yeah. That's what I thought, too." She slipped into sweet oblivion for a few precious minutes, a sleep so deep that her nightmares couldn't find her.

---

It had taken Lura far longer to light the fire than Willow would've expected from someone who was constantly camping in the wilderness. Willow supposed that she probably didn't usually borrow with a fire, simply turning into a furry monster during the cold nights, then back into a human monster when it became hot. She had somehow managed to find a trio of rabbits, and Willow was suspicious when she declared that the two of them could have all three. Willow supposed they might have been poisoned in some way until Mongrel sniffed at them and shook her head. Lura simply said she wasn't hungry.

The tall woman slumped against the opposite side of the cave when the meat was cooked, rubbing at her bare feet to provide them some small measure of relief. She winced in pain as she leaned against the cave wall, rubbing at her shoulder where Willow had stabbed her earlier.

"Does it hurt?" Willow asked in between mouthfuls of stringy meat. She slid the rabbit not being eaten by either of them over to Mongrel. One was enough for her, and she knew her love became almost ravenous whenever she smelled cooked meat. "Your shoulder?"

Lura shrugged. "Silver always does."

"Good."

The two shared a look, Willow's eyes hard and accusatory, Lura's soft and almost wistful. For a moment she almost seemed her age, tired and worn after at least eighty years of hard life, most of it spent in endless walking, hunting, toiling at the behest of a mad, lifeless god. She smiled, yellow fangs glinting in the firelight. Oddly enough, the grin wasn't as frightening as it usually appeared, and Lura gave a laugh of genuine amusement.

Willow almost smiled, and hated herself for it. "What's so funny?"

Another shrug as Lura wiped sweat from her brow with the back of a hairy arm. "You remember when I ... Fuck, I know you hate talking about this stuff. You remember when I said that you were the one Shade originally wanted? Back at the village?"

That day. Everything always came back to that day. Everything.

"Yeah," Willow finally muttered. "And?" She simply did not wish to talk about this.

"The whole thing was planned. I was supposed to ... It was your neck I was supposed to snap. And, y'know, toss you into the ocean and everything. Not your ... very hungry girlfriend."

Mongrel pulled one of the leg's off her meal with her teeth, growling lowly as if Lura were preparing to take her food away from her. On reflex, Willow ran her fingers through her mate's hair and scratched her fuzzy ear.

"This has a point?"

"It--we, both of us--changed our mind. Thought Mongrel had more spirit. Especially when she sliced my cheek open with your mom's dagger." She stared into the fire, and Willow wondered if she was slowly remembering more about that day. "You were in shock after ..." She shook her head. "I guess I'm trying to say that we were wrong. That I was wrong. There's as much fire in you as there is in her."

"Fuck you," came Willow's automatic reply.

Lura didn't look up. "Meant it as a compliment."

"I don't care."

The monster fell silent, and Willow returned to her meal. Mongrel had already entirely devoured the other two coneys. Willow held a few bones in her open hand, ready to pass them to her partner to gnaw on when she would inevitably want them.

"It ..." Lura was shivering, and Willow eyed her with growing suspicion. "It sent me once, really early on, when ..." She sighed and tried to arrange her thoughts. "Third job it sent me on after it killed half the population of the world. Maybe the fourth. Fuck me, I can't remember anything these days. The first was some merchant peddling spellbooks and slaves. That one I do remember. The next was ... some rich fuck back in Sailor's Piss. Or Farrier's Mill or Wayfarer's Spring or Fucker's Whatever--one of those stupid town names that were fashionable back then. Point is, the first two weren't exactly targets I had any sort of moral quandary about taking out. I used to eat my targets more back in those days." She shook her head. "Don't ... really know why I thought to share that part. But this one ... the next one, or the one after that ... it was a kid."

Mongrel stopped sucking at the bones.

"Was only one target. Just her. Little girl, probably ten or eleven winters. Unusual, even for Shade. Like why in the fuck does a child present such a threat to the world that she deserves ..." She flexed her arms, digging her sharp fingernails into the palms of her hands. "That she deserves attention from someone like me. I don't usually make a habit of asking the fucker why someone needs to die. Usually the less I have to know the better. Sometimes I figure it out, if I'm supposed to kill a priest or a warleader or some would-be dictator. Kinda hard not to with those. They're powerful, and powerful people usually have a way of placing the world in danger. But a kid?" Lura rubbed a speck of dirt from the tip of her nose.

"What did it say?" Mongrel whined. "Shade?"

"Said she had something. An artifact. Something from the old world that had a lot of dangerous magic associated with it. And she had a childhood interest in old rituals that could only lead to problems down the road. 'Problems.' Heh heh. The end of the world kind."

"What did you do?"

Lura leaned closer to the fire as if she were suddenly cold. "Did what I was told to do. That's me. Always do what I'm told to do. I'm a good little soldier. Dependable. So, I ... I waited until she was walking home from her friend's house. Was in a backwoods little village, on a little path between houses. I wanted to make it quick, y'know, spare her any suffering. But ... I guess I hesitated right before. Guess some of my humanity chose that moment to pop up again. Was too late to stop, though. Was already leaping towards her. Wasn't changed completely, mostly just claws. I ... really wish I hadn't hesitated. Would've been easier for her."

She held her blackened hand out, dipping it into the fire and making no indication that it hurt. When she pulled it away it didn't seem harmed in any way. Willow wondered if this was some strange sort of habit she had developed, like she was trying to hurt herself but couldn't remember how anymore.

"Sliced her belly. Her guts were ..." She swallowed. "Guess you don't need to hear about all of that. Point is, she was still alive, but wasn't going to make it for very long. I ... held her. On the path. In the dirt. Didn't want her to be alone as she went, even though it was me who ... you know."

At some point Willow's hand had found Mongrel's. Both squeezed as hard as they could.

"She cried. A lot. Obviously. And called for her mother. It was all she was saying in the end. Just 'mama,' 'mama,' 'mama.' Was the last thing she said. 'Mama.'" There were tears in the monster's eyes now, something Willow had never expected to see. "Then I saw something laying just in the grass. Something bright. Not glinting in the moonlight, something actually glowing. I picked it up and ..." Finally she looked at the pair. Her voice broke as she continued, "It was a rock. Just a fucking glowing rock. She probably found it in an old abandoned house. Gahreer are just barely magical enough to be able to recognize other magic. If it was some doomsday device, I'd know it was. But this ... It was just ... something that glowed. She was ... using it to see how to get back home in the dark." She sniffed. "Back home to 'mama.'"

Mongrel was trembling now, whether in rage or sorrow. Knowing the kindness of her heart, probably the latter. Despite her feral appearance, she was the most human out of the trio. Willow rubbed the back of her hand with her thumb, just to let her know that she was there and that she loved her. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Do you know what it's like?" Lura's bottom lip was trembling now. "To live through the same moment, every single fucking day of your life?"

Willow didn't even feel the need to respond.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I ... guess you do." Lura wiped the tears from her eyes. "Shade is ... Something's wrong with it. Something bad. Bad for it, bad for us, bad for the world. It's ... like it's losing touch with reality. Like it forgets the world exists sometimes. You saw, today. You heard it. It forgot it even sent us on the job. It didn't remember--it didn't see!--the poor bug lady as she was standing right in front of it. Like she wasn't even there."

"What does ... that mean?" Mongrel asked softly.

She was silent for several long moments before finally answering, "I don't know. But I'm scared. For the first time in a long, long time. I'm really fucking scared."

"Why are you telling us all of this?" Willow asked. For once there wasn't spite in her voice as she addressed her. "It's losing its mind. So let us go."

Lura shrugged. "Okay. Okay, yeah. You can go. Whenever you want to. I won't stop you."

For some odd reason, Willow didn't want to stand.

"I just ... I didn't bring you with me because I needed help. Or because I'm a shitty person--I mean, I am, you know that, I'm the worst. I brought you with me because ..." She was trembling again.

"What?" The question came from both Willow and Mongrel. Both were afraid of the answer.

The cave was quiet, the crackling of the flames as silent as any of them until she finally gave the answer.

"I need you to help me kill it."