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This is much like part 1, however there is a strong horror/suspense element now. There is not much sex in this one; the story focuses more on plot and atmosphere (so if anyone's looking to paw, look elsewhere). But, if you want to read a horror story with lots of dark humor in it (like House of 1000 Corpses), then carry on.

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Between Decay and Lunacy: Written by Ian "Plexadonn" Tucker, aka Indrid Tully

10,849. Copyright, Ian Tucker

Rubber around metal ground into gravel. Water sped down through the rocks as it rushed from the sky to Earth. The gravel then turned to flattened dirt, a trail that led up the slight incline to mounds of mourning. Normally, one could see the plots clearly, count them individually, but this night was impossibly dark. Wheels span fast enough to move the machine upwards, but slow enough to keep the mud forming on Earth to splash it. That could not be avoided, not here with the rain falling so heavily.

Such an anomaly, this sort of precipitation, in sort of climate, at this time of year. It was all a reaction to the manipulation of energy, the mortal contortion of the universe. The world was trying to wash away the chaos that had been fed into the Earth from a mind deranged.

The vehicle stopped, the driver positioning the stick on the wheel to park it and prevent his machine from rolling back down the hill. To the back he moved to remove gear: a shovel, a satchel, no umbrella. He would not mind getting wet, with no fur or hair, it would be easy to dry himself to avoid the cold. Being cold-blooded added to the discomfort, but nothing was worse than his suffering in those past months.

In the darkness, nothing seemed to move except the millions upon millions of droplets plummeting to the ground from clouds. Even the planet's satellite was unable to penetrate the darkness, although his electric torch did just fine to illuminate his goal. Numerous rocks penetrated the air. Stone edifices like heads pushing up from their ground--their coffins--to cry for Heaven. This being would not be their savior, though; he would bring that salvation to only one. His true love, his absolute and maddening obsession, that being whose absence caused his suffering.

Finding the proper grave, he impaled the Earth with the spade and eviscerated the soil therein. Not too much, but just enough to hear the metal tool contact the box she was in. His love in her crate. The contents of the satchel were spilled into the void, the hole in the Earth. The chant of magick was spilled from his mouth, going to the spirits, into the dead, drawing the energy of the universe. Incredible how strongly the Earth was trying to wash that all away.

He removed another tool, a cutting implement similar to the spade but smaller. A garish incision he made into his wing, pulling the flap in his hand and digging into it. Carving out a tiny section of the flap, he dropped the bleeding piece into the void as well. The being stood and stared at the stone. She had given him that sort of wound before, and now he copied it in order to persuade her spirit to take it as food. The undead eating his memory to rebuild a mind.

Lightning struck nearby; he did not flinch. It cracked a tree and illuminated him, the silhouette of his horns glaring onto the rock before him. That name carved there, such beautiful words. Not once since his loss had he ever uttered such words; the mere act of calling her and knowing she would not come pained him.

In the past, he had thought of her love and lustful servitude as a game. Now, he realized that he had done so foolishly, and now he found the horrifying notion of his grief and tragic loss of her love.

It was done; he needed to leave.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

The storm that night before had made her power go out. Katlyn was now trying to recover a lost document and retrieve the website she had been perusing, clicking the pointing device, staring at the screen. Such an amount of pornography bookmarked, she would have to search each one for the link that had given her such a better view.

Those girls on the screen were lovely, very much so, yet they all lacked the charm a real person had. Yet even then, no real being, furry person or bird or reptile, could ever compare to that lost mammal. Taking a sip of vodka, she focused on letting the drink and porn distract her mind from that absent body in her life.

Waiting for it to load, she looked down to her nails--painted red--and began grating the polish with her beak. The crow's mohawk hung down beside her right eye, the dual of black and red feathering her eyebrows and tickling her. Swinging her head, she managed to coax the tress to stop poking her in the eye. There, at the window, she had caught a glimpse of a head disappear before she could clearly see it. Going wide-eyed, gasping a breath, she stood and grabbed a kitchen knife. It had been lying on the desk since that night. Her fear of nighttime burglars and all, especially with the power failure.

If someone were to bust in, the avian would stab him or her and ask questions later. She waited, hoping it would happen, wanting badly to show her skills against an attacker. But that attacker was so polite, ringing the doorbell twice like that.

She answered it, moving quickly and opening the door slowly, cautiously. A human stood there, female, black hair, wet from the rain. But it was not raining, she must have taken a dip in the lake down

the street.

"Yeah?" She asked, squinting her brown eyes to glimpse the girl's face.

The girl looked up, meeting those eyes, and pulled her length of hair from her face, tucking it behind an ear. Katlyn frowned in confusion. This person looked familiar, mostly by her facial structure. Without makeup, she looked much different.

"Did you miss me, Katlyn?" She asked, her voice sounding as though she needed a sweet, cherry-flavored lozenge.

Katlyn opened her eyes wider then, glaring and gasping at the abomination. Was it a coincidence that this human had appeared just as the crow had been remembering her face.

"Lydia!" She tried to close the door, hoping the 'hallucination' would disappear or whoever was playing the joke would present his or herself.

Lydia, the body, forced it open easily, throwing her arm against it. The force of impact caused the avian to fall to her rump and drop her knife. Lydia stepped over her and moved to the lavatory, kicking the door open, completely destroying the knob and its parts.

"Fuck, I look like shit." He complained, staring at her visage in the mirror, poking at her eyes.

The perplexed crow approached her and grabbed the human's shoulders. They stared at each other, the body smiling in amusement. Long ago she had been in this bird's grip, so close and touching so intimately. Lydia wondered if Katlyn had missed her.

"Lydia...!"

"Yes, you know me."

"How is this possible?"

"Ugh..." She rolled her eyes and pushed past the other, stepping to the couch and landing on it with her bottom. "That fool, Indrid, did this to me. I know it."

"Indrid?" She did not know the dragon, but had heard much about him, heard much about his and Lydia's past life before he got locked up. Having been wildly jealous, Katlyn had managed to bring that sort of passion of Lydia's to her and claimed the human's love for herself. Indrid would have been perturbed at knowing he had been competing for Lydia with another female.

"I guess he can't get enough of me..." she glared at the crow, darting her eyes along Katlyn's posture, "I can't blame him."

Katlyn sat next to her and grinned. This... thing... sitting next to her was the embodiment of life. Yet she had been stripped of life only a few months before. However, there she was, breathing and feeling and thinking like a person should. If this was truly a living person, her friend was back; her lover was returned in all her mammalian glory.

"I know what you're thinking..." Lydia said softly, leaning to look deep into her friend's eyes. "But it's not what you think..." the body... Lydia... put a hand on Katlyn's face and gripped her cheek, pressing her fingers into the soft feathers of her face, "I'm not really alive."

The zombie pushed Katlyn to the back of the couch and stood to loom above her. The crow stared up into Lydia's eyes, brown and grey and rotting. One such orb, she could see, slowly began to melt. No, not melt, it was slipping from its socket. It fell out and almost rolled down her face had she not grabbed it in time.

"Dammit, that's the third time that happened today. Do you know I had to walk here from the cemetery?"

Katlyn felt excitement within her swell and she could only smile. Her friend was returned, her zombie companion... she loved her so. She held on to Lydia's waist and examined the incredible beast. Within that abdomen was a decomposing mass of guts. With a nick, those pieces would spill out and cover her completely. Lydia could see the lust in Katlyn's eyes, see how her gaze flowed over her body. The body had not emerged naked; she had been dressed in a white T-shirt and a long, black dress. Neither of them were adequate.

The zombie-girl bent down and put both knees on either side of her friend, leaning the avian girl against the couch again. Katlyn gasped and quivered as she felt the cold, slimy tongue of the zombie slide along her beak.

"When I get undressed... and I show you how dead I really am... you have to get me some better clothes."

The cold tongue intruded her mouth, but it was a bit sickening to feel that thick muck coat her mouth and the clammy, damp lips on her bill. Not a bit of warmth came from that body as the zombie glided her hands and fingers along the living-girl's bosom. Lydia smiled, enjoying the soft texture of those feathers around the crow's torso. Black, lustrous, glimmering even in the dim light. Water fell into her feathers and eyes, the zombie coating her with undead residue and squeezing her thighs with dying tissue. The sound of those innards sloshing inside the white corpus atop her made Katlyn swoon.

Possibly, the death aura the zombie glowed with was the source of the crow's invigoration. Such an essence of negative life inundated all sensation and it felt as if death crept up to her. To the crow, that sort of perception was the most erotic feeling she had ever felt. No, that was just the zombie's wiggling fingers removing her trousers. Having yanked them off, the zombie crept her fingers around the girl's thighs and eased them against the reproductive slot underneath the lacy underwear.

Although cold and dank, Katlyn could only chirp with delight at being treated so fantastically. The crow leaned forward to run her fingers through the zombie's hair, longing to feel that sort of fur after being denied it for so long.

Lydia would have none of that, the silly bird would only cause more of it to fall out. Before letting Katlyn to grip too tightly, the undead tossed her friend's body backward, gripping her skinny fingers around the throat.

Strangulation, aggressiveness... it all added to the thrill of the crow and she willingly fought back. No raping a consenting girl, that was the only problem with that sort of fantasy. By the time it came, she was more than consenting, but begging for forceful

treatment.

Lydia replaced those probing fingers with her tongue, destroying the normal comfort of regulated warmth with that decaying muscle. That cold flap caused her to squawk, the crow jumping at the zombie's penetration of her cervix, grabbing at the sofa cushions. Lydia only gripped tighter, chuckling her cold wind against the labia.

After moments of lapping and squeezing, the girl ceased as the avian creature reaching a diminutive peak in sensuality. Coming only once, the crow screamed and cawed, the knowledge of her lover's present state of life no longer giving her trepidation. It did not matter, Lydia was now returned in the flesh, her carnality all belonging to her now.

Leaving the crow panting and gripping her chest, her pink, pointed tongue flailing inside her opened beak, the zombie moved to the bedroom and began searching for a better attire. The minor abandonment disappointed the avian, wanting badly to take the

human back into her arms and revel in the essence of her being.

That would have to come later though, for she knew of the consequences of squandering time. Lydia needed to get ready for her feeding, and by her aroma and appearance, Katlyn knew she needed energy quickly.

"Great," she said, "Now with this shitty body I can't wear this anymore." She held a leather brassiere, a zipper in the center, up the middle.

"Yes you can." Stated the crow, entering the closet of clothes with her friend. Katlyn had retrieved her bladed weapon from the floor and now held it at the ready, prepared to offer her blood to the human.

Pressing the knife to her palm, Katlyn attempted to wound her hand and give the life therein to her lover. Lydia stopped her, seizing the knife before an injury was made. Glaring in anger, she explained, "You shall not trade life force with me, you moron."

"What?" The crow asked, "Why not?"

"You will exchange some of your own life, Katlyn, you know what that means. I won't have that of you; you will remain fully alive, and we will find someone else."

The black avian was delighted to hear such compassion from her human lover. Such care and consideration from Lydia to let her retain her normal mortality,Lydia had never displayed true love to the bird before. Too bad it was now in such a strange circumstance.

Together, the girls chose an outfit for the zombie that would not squeeze her body too much, or else her skin rip and allow the interior to drip. Slacks were too tight, so off came that ugly dress to be replaced by a prettier dress.

Lydia would not normally wear that kind of thing, but the occasion would called for special garb. Something of the typical decease celebration. What did girls wear at funerals?

Katlyn sat on her bed and watched the nude form of her zombie friend. Like a doll, in every aspect, loose stitching, faded fabric, tattered and falling to pieces. Oh how did Katlyn like to play dress up!

The crow pondered of the zombie's plight. She was glad to keep her life as her own, but Lydia needed someone quickly or else decay to a point that made it impossible to physically function or communicate like a human. Someone with a lot of energy and mass, matter of life, blood, someone that they would enjoy killing.

"I just got the best idea." She said.

Lydia glanced back to her, swaying her head on the loosened cervical bones, attempting to keep her neck from folding.

"What is that, love?" She asked.

"You can do something for me."

"I already did, Katlyn, I have to go to Indrid now." Then Lydia proceeded to explain the new definition, explain her own being.

It was her goal. Her summoning, her resurrection, was for him and she could not deny the reptilian entity now. His blood had brought her from the Earth and reversed the insect reversal. Her soul had been drained from the universe and was forced back into her corpus, her mind, all on his account.

The dragon had done that to her, but the offering of his body would not return the entirety of her former self. Without the idea of growth, of productive life, she would do nothing but die and decay from there on. Of this, she would never forgive him and would not allow it to go unpaid.

"Why?" Katlyn argued.

"Because it is only with him that I can either rest again or sustain life. I'm his 'drone' now."

"Forget him."

"Why, do you have someone else I can take and feast of their energy?"

Katlyn grinned maniacally and cackled. It was as if the zombie had knew of her thoughts.

"As a matter of fact, I have the absolute perfect one in mind!"

Lydia stared, a wicked smile on her face; she buttoned the top of the dark blouse. It was not pretty, but it revealed nothing of her rot, and that was a desired effect for their evening.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

After cleaning herself and dressing in scanty clothes--miniskirt and babydoll T-shrit--Katlyn entered the building.

An amalgam of noise, loud and obnoxious, tried to force her to return to the dark quiet of the night. No, she would face it, and stepping through, trailing her hand behind, clamping it on the limp dead meat of a drone's fingers, she began looking for her goal.

Several paws were smacked against her rear, dogs and coyotes howling in indecent eroticism. One such animal, a drunken wolf, elevated his wriggling digits to intrude her vaginal area. She gasped and turned to assault him, but the zombie would do better.

The dead girl seized the lupine's wrist and leaned in to his face, grabbing his other wrist. An unearthly, un-living clasp of the zombie.

He glared into these eyes of the human, reticial hemorrhaging, black grimy teeth, the stench of a rotting tongue, no lipstick.

"You like that? I'll do the same to you with a knife!" She growled, the bad tissue of her larynx and trachea causing her once feminine voice to turn into grime-ridden noise.

He screamed once and tried to pull away; she let him go and allowed gravity to take advantage of his unbalance and bring him towards Earth.

"Jesus Christ! She's a monster!" His fellows bellowed in inebriated euphoria. She might have been a monster, but those goth girls were all really monstrous, weren't they?

As the doggies forgot about their friend's encounter, the girls continued to the bar, stepping daintily to the line of males. Grizzlies, mostly, a stag at the end, and a panda in the center. That black and white mammal was their goal, their victim, their food for

the night.

"Adrian!" Katlyn shouted, pulling on his shoulder. He turned to see who might be calling him and at once lost interest. His eyes did not even fall upon the other girl.

"What do you want?" He asked, nearly spat.

"I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Lydia."

He turned his head only to nod, but not to see, "Hi, you little girls leave me alone now."

"Tch!" She said, smacking the back of his head; Katlyn knew exactly how to manipulate this egotistical male, "Look at you, such a bloated shithead, can't even satisfy a girl. You were such a lousy lover in bed, I figured a woman would be better. Damn if I was

right, Lydia can work her tongue better than you can jerk yourself off."

Adrian grimaced and stepped from the stool. Wearing a semi-formal suit of light brown, he either had a weight problem or lifted weights.

"What? Are you a dike now?"

"That's right, fucker, looks like you have such a charming effect on your woman, don't ya?"

The panda seized her face and squeezed it. Each time he had done such a thing, Katlyn could feel the pain for a day after. Adrian's chubby fingers gripped the bill tightly closed, curling his claws into the soft feathers around it.

"You don't count. You were a dirty whore."

Katlyn surprised him by taking his genitals into her grip and pushing him off of her, throwing her other hand against his big chest, shoving his cushioned posterior to the stool.

"You don't know dirty until you've seen Lydia here." She leaned in to stare into his eyes, the twisted expression on his muzzle made both females smirk, "I was gonna come back to you, I need you, and I thought you might be willing to take me if I provided another body for you to hump... or suck on... whatever you like."

"Huh?" He breathed, "You're kidding me, right?" The crow's behavior was unprecedented and caused him alarm. The females were probably scheming to

humiliate him in some horrific fashion or rob him blind.

Katlyn grinned and shook her head slowly, reaching her fingers to his belt to begin unfastening them. "I wanna go back to your place," she explained, "I'll get Lydia to leave us after a while so we can discuss 'us'. All right?"

He grinned and fumbled for her hands before she unzipped his pants and exposed him to the crowd. A few eyes, visions of interest, fixed on the trio. What could be going on with two goth girls molesting a business man?

They would never know, for the group left quickly. It took no convincing to get him in Katlyn's car, and she did not need directions to his house. "Buckle up." She demanded playfully. The black avian sped off, riding two tires on the sidewalk for a few meters before hitting a metal trash can then straightening the vehicle on the road.

"What the fuck?" He wondered, grabbing at the door frame to keep his head from smashing into the window. Katlyn merely flashed a smile and a chirp, throwing her feathery tresses away from her face.

Adrian heard the girl in the back giggle, she sounded as a person who had been smoking for all their life, though she could not be more than thirty. Lydia leaned against a door and stretched her limbs to the other, reposing completely as the muscle fibers inside

continued to break under the pressure.

"Is she gonna bite me or anything like that?" He whispered to Katlyn.

"If you want her too." More cackling commenced from both females.

Past midnight, it was one day after the full moon. That white celestial body in space shone down onto its planet to provide Earth with pale light. The universe was tuning itself to allow those nimble enough to play with it.

Katlyn arrived at his house and parked crooked, half on the concrete, half on the lawn. Adrian made no complaint and made his way to unlock the door and enter. The outside light was burned out, so he had to fumble with the keys. He turned on the overhead

fixture, dousing the room in strong, white light.

The crow and humanoid entered behind and sealed the house, locking the door.

"I can't wait, get up there!" Katlyn said, mimicking a sly and provocative tone, grazing her hands along his bountiful buttocks. He chuckled and hurried upstairs, peeking back to ensure their pursuit. The chubby panda stumbled on the top step, grunting as his

limbs flew in front to avoid injury. The cackling from behind only excited him, except for that Lydia's laugh. It was an odd sound; he should have offered her some tea and honey to soothe her throat.

Adrian threw his bedroom door open and began removing his clothes. Off came his jacket, to the chair; off came his shoes, to the floor; off came his belt, with the shoes. His chamber was tidy, bed made, desk ordered neatly, closet of clothes arranged perfectly.

Katlyn shoved him forward and maneuvered him onto the bed, flipping him over as he protested against her kinesthetics. On his back now, staring up towards the ceiling into Katlyn's grinning face. Her shiny, brownish-black beak opened, that fleshly area around

it raised to produce a smile. With her lustrous feathers and eyes and that curtain of crimson tufts hanging down, he cold only think of how sexy she was.

"I'll bet Lydia will like that big dick of yours!" She crooned, grabbing his tie and pulling his torso upwards. Katlyn put his nose into her bill and clamped down, grinding the edges into his fur, but not enough to damage.

Their tongues met as she clasped his head with both hands. His paws reached around to pull at her shirt, only applying more pressure to the already tight fitting fabric. Knowing what he what he wanted, she let go of his head and helped to pull at the clothing. Off it came to join his jacket on the floor. As the light blue thing soared to the ground like a dead bird from a gunshot, he spied Lydia leaning against the wall. Smiling behind those oily strands of hair hanging like veils to hide the dead, she looked dead, but the dead do not smile.

Her very presence brought a strange, eerie sensation over him, and he could not take his eyes off of her. Adrian was not into that sort of thing, goths or vampires--whatever you call them--and she stuck out like a sore thumb... a dead body. The panda had never

held a corpse in his house.

Adrian's attention quickly returned when he realized that the female straddling him had removed his tie and shirt and was currently stripping off his trousers. The intrigued and perplexed panda could stare at Katlyn and know he would become aroused at the attention her tongue was giving his sheath and other parts. It would take only a glance to the other girl and he would vomit immediately.

Easy enough, he would not look to Lydia. So he watched Katlyn roll her sharp tongue along his shaft, her pink muscle and his member a similar hue of red--only his was darker.

Adrian chuckled and involuntarily twitched at the feel of her feathery mohawk tickling his tender flesh. He winced at the sharp edges of her bill cutting into the sensitive head. Nevertheless, that strange contact thrilled him.

The panda watched as she rubbed her bill along his glistening shaft. His pre-coital seminal fluid coating both his member and her beak. The crow laughed as well, standing up to remove her skirt. Staring at him, she pitied Adrian. Katlyn had truly

liked him, and felt a disturbing sympathy for him. Nevertheless, she convinced herself that his life would better suit the universe by fusing it with Lydia.

"All right..." the panda groaned, pawing himself, licking his moistened lips in anticipation. Off came her panties, bending to slide them off and expose her plump, shapely hips.

He reached for her, motioning with his digits to come closer. Katlyn did so, stepping lightly to straddle his prone form again and wiggle her knees and hips to position herself above his head.

Katlyn gasped as the panda gripped his claws into her fleshy thighs and began lapping at her sex region. She glared at his face, cold, black nose and cute little ears; his eyes were closed. For all the grief he had caused her before, she now felt like dropping a

glob of saliva into that adorable face.

No, that would just anger him and cause violence. Instead, she motioned for Lydia to approach. The goal of their scheme was nigh, and it would be achieved quickly, no mistakes could be made or else a wild chase would ensue through the house.

Lydia would not mind that, certainly not.

In order to trouble the panda's mind--to make the transference of telepathy more easy--Katlyn hobbled backward to stop his licking. In all the efforts, he had produced no further sensuality with the female. He had wondered why her labia had not lubricated

itself; the tissue had remained virtually dry.

Horrifically, his next vision was dominated by the hideous visage of Lydia. Adrian gasped and sat up, but was forced down both females. He actually felt frightened by this human and could not understand why he was suddenly paralyzed.

Lydia, grinning her soiled toothy smile, bent her head forward and hung that curtain of black into his eyes. Adrian should move, he knew that, he knew long ago that something was wrong with this girl. He tried to move, but Katlyn's hips and hands were squashing his body to the mattress.

"Stop..." He whispered, his body slowly becoming too relaxed. The panda body jerked and bucked, rocking the bed like cradle, thumping noises coming from the frame legs in his panic.

"Please! Don't!" He begged, but was unsure of what they were doing. It could not be good with how they were viscously gripping his arms and shoulders, the crow pinning him down easily with such light body mass.

"No..." Adrian stared into Lydia's eyes, not moving his focal point from those hideous optics. He became numb and his heart raced in monstrous panic, his mind pleading with his body to move and flee from such torture. Worse torture was to ensue, most definitely, Lydia had removed a decorative blade from someplace unseen.

Adrian wept, this reaction a plead to the angels to aid him. No angels would come, non existed, for the universe was made of numbers and energy, not deities. He would suffer through this, all to satisfy a drone's lust from a dragon's obsession.

He was a suffering soul between decay and lunacy.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

He was forced into labor. Not too manual, fortunately, and though an annoyance, he knew it was necessary. It was the required maternal law that he get a GED and a job someplace where he could have a life besides PS2, guitar and rituals.

Indrid liked PS2; it was the only way he could kill people and get away with it. Jeff's girlfriend had certainly not, and was currently serving incarceration much longer than he had.

The dragon would have killed Jeff and would like to kill his ex-bandmates for their insolence. Too late for that, unless his recent experiment had worked, then it could happen. Strange though that his results were tardy, and it caused him frustration.

Just the sight of another female in his household would cause that maternal reptile to exile her son into the city. Scoffing in his mind, he found himself in apathy. Indrid knew he could sustain life perfectly well minus a true household or decent finance. At least he had a car now. It had been Lydia's, but death prevented her usage of it, and her mother had been kind in saying yes upon his request of it.

Driving to his house, he could still smell that amazing human. Her scent had saturated the fabric of the upholstery as much as his sinuses. He wondered if she would still smell like that. No, but as soon as she was in his control he would provide her with

nutrition.

Her schedule had been missed. Indrid knew Lydia most likely would have gone through her awakening undisturbed, so her absence now was simple: someone had stolen her.

So he waited, sitting on his bed, staring at the TV, playing a video game. Anything with zombies would suffice. Though he gave the game little attention or concentration, most of it was saved for glancing out the window, hoping he would see his visitor approaching in all her human beauty.

At three o'clock, he decided to take action. Abandoning the game and then his home, the dragon sat himself inside the vehicle and drove away. His tires were still smeared with cemetery mud from two nights before.

Indrid drove towards the trailer park. Here were a few folks he knew of, one of them had been his lover, and the others had been strangers. It was the only link to Lydia he knew of, for her mother had moved far and away from the city, and these girls were the next closest friends.

The fact that she had been taken from him twice now drove him wilder, his mind spinning with frustration and anger faster than the wheels of his vehicle turned. He would take her back, for there was no way an unfair gesture from a neurotic female could keep his love away forever. First in death, and now in theft. Lydia had been his only thought in jail, and was his only thought now.

Turning onto the bridge over the canal, he saw the sun become smeared by snow clouds. Soon, the reddish-grey tinge would fill the sky and it would rain ice. Snow was better than rain, not so muddy. He did not like driving through the place, it looked so dirty. The sight of yard-dogs caused him to laugh and he wanted to run them down. Not being in the street, he could not, and he soon came to Ronda's home.

This female human was home, and answered her door promptly. She asked what he wanted, barely knowing who the dragon was, and Indrid could see that there was no way Lydia could have showed up there. Within the place loitered a few other humans, adults and children.

Knowing the probable situation, he asked regardless, "Anyone come around here, a girl that looks like Lydia?"

"No, who looks like Lydia?"

"Never mind," he walked away, "if she comes over, give me a call." She did not have his number, but did not care anyway, the phrase was almost habit from watching an excess of movies witht the line. Next was Katlyn's home. It looked a lot like Lydia's, but this one should be occupied.

Upon approaching the door and pummeling with his clenched fists, he discovered it was vacant. Indrid knew that Katlyn still lived here, and if she was home, he would get her attention. Screaming her name did not help, thumping on the windows of the place was

equal in response.

Standing at the door, he could see it was weak. With a swift kick, he smashed it open, breaking the knob and its parts, bending the thin steel of the frame. It was not his problem, and if Katlyn had kidnapped his precious Lydia, that would be hers and his

equally.

It was dark, but good light was not required for him to know if the human had been there. He took a step, scanning the room with his vision. A knife lay on the

sofa, the computer had been shut down, and there was another damage done. Entering the lavatory, he saw the door had been broken as well, a muddy footprint on

the outside.

Moving back to the sitting room, his eyes fell onto the couch. Sniffing the air, swaying his muzzle about, flicking his tongue in and out.

Ohh... yes...

That was nice, he had not smelled that odor in such a time that it seemed a torturous eternity. Two females, both of which he knew were involved in this fiasco. Looking down closely, he spied long strands of black matter. Human hair, definitely.

Lydia had been there, and they had done something, perhaps had a fight or killed someone. He left then, reentering his vehicle to chase his thoughts down the street, leading him to a skin beater that had betrayed him.

Down the bigger roads and over the locomotive tracks, past more shady parts of the city and to a grouping of warehouses. Slowly approaching his destination, the second building, he peered closely to see if there was anyone home.

Yes, Camon's abused car was sitting there dormant, severely damaged and cruddy. Indrid would like to do the same thing to Camon's face, the rat. Camon was a rat, of the white breed, very tall and muscular, probably able enough to life his own car.

Even so, the dragon could beat the rat to death with just his wings if he tried hard enough. Throwing a fist against the heavy, wooden door, he knew that breaking this one open would take more force.

"Come in." Camon shouted from inside.

"Okay." Indrid replied, not sure if Camon would hear. He fumbled with the knob, forgetting how to use it. It had always given him trouble, and he would be damned if he could not get it open. Fortunately, he did, and saved himself the humiliation at having Camon shout instructions.

Both were surprised to see the other. Indrid immediately noticed that Camon had cleaned the place. The area both males were in was an office, a foyer of sorts, past another door was the warehouse, and Indrid could see the work tables covered with clutter.

"Indrid!" Camon said, frowning, "Hey, man."

"Hi."

Camon was shirtless, like usual, and was sitting at his computer, mixing trance music with various programs. Indrid hated that music, but liked how the drummer had a varied taste in genres, unlike the other band members.

Indrid could see that the rat had been working out a lot in the time he had been gone. The rat had always been well-built like that, being a drummer, it was an advantage. However, on this day, it really showed. The dragon did not find other males attractive, and had never eyed one in that way before. But he could not help but admire the rat for it, thinking how good he would look himself with a body like that.

"What's up?" Camon asked, looking back to his screen to play some more.

"I hate you, you know that, don't you?"

Camon looked to him, his face of either sympathy or irritation, "Come on, man. You know you were a jerk to us. Not all of the time, but a lot of the time."

"Big deal, I was nice to you."

"I know that!" He replied quickly; it was true, for the others had constantly mocked the rat for his way of thinking and ideas, but Indrid never did.

"It's not just that, Camon, none of you came to my defense."

"There was nothing we could do, Indrid. I would have, but..."

"You were too busy playing with yourself or fucking that weird bitch of yours."

"Fuck you, man." The rat would not take offense, and the rejoinder had not been out of true anger.

The dragon stepped forward and leaned his weight on it, looking at the rat's face, "I'll find a way to get you guys, don't bother hiding. I'll get you all." The threat had no emphasis, and Indrid could see it did nothing to the rat.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know..."

"No. What?"

"Oh... never mind." The dragon gave it up, knowing he sounded like an idiot.

Indrid paused, thinking about his next question; he could not ask if the rat had seen Lydia, "Have you uh... have any girls come around here? Crow with a mohawk?"

Camon turned to him, his face lighting up, "Yeah! She was here a few minutes ago. Oh! I forgot about it, she was looking for you."

Indrid's jaw dropped and he looked towards the door, the large, plexiglass window cloudy and not allowing a good view. If Katlyn had been looking for him, she could be delivering his love right to him. Why else would she on the search?

"Is she you're girlfriend?" Camon wondered.

"No, she's gonna get her ass kicked though." He turned to leave, not struggling with the door this time.

"Hey, Indrid." Camon stated loudly. The dragon turned to look at him. "If you ever get bored, maybe we could hang out sometime."

"Oh..." Indrid had not been expecting that, but was pleased that the rat was actually willing to be his friend again. The dragon and drummer had truly never been real friends, in fact, his only real friend in the group had been the guitarist, Ken. "Yeah,

definitely." Both smiled, then Indrid left.

There, by his car, was another car, Katlyn stood by it, two cheeks on the metal. He stared, mouth agape, both relieved and antagonized by her presence. Indrid had always viewed her as a skanky chicken, but on this day, she appeared as a gossamer beauty. He always liked her hair.

"You!" Indrid hissed, pointing a finger at her face and stepping towards her.

"Shh!" She hushed, placing one of her own fingers to her beak, smiling. "You don't want them to hear us, do you?"

"Who?" There was no one around, not in either of the vehicles, nor standing around as a witness.

"Uh..." She shook her head, "never mind. Anyway, I have something you might like."

"I know you do! You have my Lydia!" He growled softly. Although knowing he would not attack, his grimace and sight of those sharp, white fangs inspired her to step away from the car in order to give room to flee if necessary.

"Yes, and she has something important to tell you."

"You listen to me, Katlyn! She needs life to fully gain herself back."

"I know, she told me. Let's see," she looked off into the sky, perhaps the snow would deliver the required sustenance bodies. "Two should do it, right? For a while, at least."

"Yeah, that's why I need to get to her, I'm gonna help her and we can be together forever, just like I planned."

"We'll see about that."

"Tell me where she is, right now." Katlyn shook her head 'no', those feathery strands shaking across her face like a broom sweeping ashes from a hearth.

"Yes," he corrected, "right now."

"No, we have a surprise for you. And you can't know just yet."

With his attack, she remembered she could not flee, not unless she wanted to fail her mission and anger the drone. Instead of fighting back his intruding hands and claws, she brandished a bundle of death. Into his face it went, smashing against his muzzle and flowing over his chin and eyes, blinding him with rank powder.

He screamed and fell to the ground, clutching at the decay in his face. The last thing he would remember of that encounter was Katlyn moving to her car and driving away. Her pointed face silhouetted against the darkening sky.

At first, Indrid thought he was sleeping in his bed, waking up to a freezing room, like always. Why else would it be that cold?

Oh yes, the snow.

Blurry white filled his vision, fuzzy like white noise, ice fragments clinging to his scales and burning his eyes. But there was a big mass there, it was touching his shoulders, vibrating his body with spastic motions.

"Indrid! You all right?" Asked the mass. It must have been a ghost. The dragon flicked his tongue and tasted a rat. That was not particularly pleasant, but

he knew what it was.

"Ugh! Camon!" Indrid thrashed with his awakening, flaying his hands up in delirium.

"Whoa! Calm down, man!" The rat seized his limbs with his strong arms. "What happened?"

Indrid stared at the rat inches from his face, there was another face too, but it was blurrier. Katlyn's pointed face, that damn mohawk fluttering before her eyes. He spoke her name as if coming to a realization.

"Katlyn? What is that?"

"It's that girl... she..."

"She knocked you out?"

"Yes."

Camon stood, pulling on the dragon's arm, laughing loudly. "That's awesome. What did you do to her?"

"Nothing yet. But she's gonna get it." He stepped away to his car, "Thanks, I'll call you if there's any trouble, you owe me."

The rat stared at him, watching him close the door in his wings. "Sure man, catch you later."

After tucking in those bothersome, superfluous, useless wings, he closed the door and pulled out of the lot. He sped home, wanting to get to his room and warm up and wait for something to happen. He was so tired from the zombie powder and work that morning, but no sleep could transpire, his mind was too infuriated.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

As much as he wanted to, Indrid knew falling asleep would just waste time. The issue of his rendezvous to the girls should be sooner than this, as he felt that he would go insane sitting there, staring at the sphere.

The dragon's first wound had not yet healed, so he used it again, prodding at it with a knife to break up the clot. It leaked in orbs to splash the strands of hair juxtaposed, circumventing the glass sphere before him.

Indrid's eyes pierced the material, focusing his telepathy to fuse with the drone's mind. It required only minutes, and at the third, the ball glowed with her aura. Careful not to break his eyes from it, he focused on her vision, needing--wanting--to see through her eyes.

There was a crow, female with a mohawk, her eyes closed, her mouth open, a tongue wagging around around the bill, her talons on her breasts. The dragon waited for Lydia's eyes to move so he could determine what the hell was going on.

Down she panned, allowing Indrid to see her thighs, her hands gliding up the bird's torso, her hips pumping, an apparatus strapped to her... abdomen...

He shook his head and looked up, the reptile's face twisted; he was flabbergasted. Blinking to distract his mind and delete the image, he found it was still there, floating in the glass, the two girls grinding...

He growled and clawed at the bloody hairs to dissipate the energy. Indrid quit the room--the basement--and hurried to the sitting room. All he could think about was how he would enjoy tearing Katlyn's beautiful feathers from her body as he stabbed her with his knife.

Yet still, he had no idea where they were, and he needed to get his grip on them or else lose his sanity comletely. That concept had been slowly draining since his realization that he loved Lydia, adored her.

He took his anger out via black metal, blaring it from his speakers while continuing with his gaming. If there was time, Indrid would curse that avian, sending a spell or something to doom her life until he was pleased with her suffering.

No, he would wait for the time to cut her up and force Lydia to be his again. All of that winged creature's life he would fuel his lover with, rebuilding her body enough so he could feel her warmth again. Indrid could not understand why his addiction to Lydia was so intense. At her death he had found virtual apathy, and now...

"Turn that shit down!" Demanded his mother, startling him. He was embarrassed, for just the fantasy of being with Lydia again had aroused him. Turn it down he did, dropping the volume so neither of them could hear it. Indrid only then realized the Earth had rotated enough to obscure the sun, it was getting too late and he was getting more impatient. His mother entered his room.

"You have a call." She explained, holding the phone towards him. He leaned over, stretching on his bed to get it. "You remember what I told you." She reminded

with a scowl.

"All right! I got it, nothing's gonna happen!" Indrid growled as she turned to leave.

"Yeah?" He asked into the phone.

"Guess who."

He had to think; it was a female, sounded sexy. "Morgan Lander?"

"No."

"kaRIN?"

"Who?

"Collide? Oh, never mind!" He finished, "Who is it? Is this Katlyn?"

"Yep, you're a smart little lizard aren't you?"

"I'm not a lizard, I'm a dragon." He corrected.

"What's the difference?"

The answer came quickly, but before saying it, he had to first realize he did not have one, "Uh... I'm actually not sure. Who freakin' cares? Where are you and where is my Lydia."

"First, let me tell you, she's not yours anymore. She's mine."

Indrid growled, wanting to stretch his claws into the phone and strangle her. All in good time though.

"Where are you two morons?" He stated, not wanting to argue, just wanting to attain their location.

"I'll give you directions... can you find it at night?"

"Yes, I'll find it."

She worded street letters and fractions. B 3/4s road, with a five digit house number. He apparently could not miss it, it has two stories and a car on the grass. Indrid cut her off without saying goodbye. He immediately escaped the house and traveled to the

destination in his car.

"Ugh!" Katlyn said, "Prick."

"He'll be so happy to see me." Lyda said, sitting on a recliner. Her skin had returned to life, just a little, recovering some of its past humanity and warmth. Her teeth and eyes were fully intact now, and her innards had stopped melting.

Next to the avian, sat the fur who had offered his life. Of course, it had not been voluntary, and he still had energy to give, that was why the girls had bound him in ways to prevent him from speaking or moving too much. Loss of blood and spirit had fatigued him, so he could not fight them to flee his home.

"Time to go, big guy." The crow said, standing to pull up on him, getting him to stand.

Adrian protested with a groan, the panda's eyes barely open. What a shame, for he would have found Lydia's new form to be slightly attractive; at least she no longer reeked.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

Indrid gently tapped the pedal, letting the car crawl, coming towards an uncertain episode. Smaller and smaller his distance became, every inch traversed on the dark trail being recycled into his mind as anxiety.

The moon waned above in space, its bestowing of power decreasing with each hour. Indrid would have to do this quickly. His eyes penetrated the crippling darkness, the current street absent of any illumination save for a few houses dimly glowing from

inside. Not even his headlights were shining.

It might have been difficult to find the place on a regular day, but with the snow storm, his progress was impeded further. Every house's yard was smothered by the frozen weather, every house and vehicle slowly disappearing with the white ice.

Realizing his mouth had become dry, he swallowed and rubbed his tongue around the interior of his maw. The dragon tried to calm his mind, stop his hand from gripping the wheel so tightly. In an amazing abnormality, his pulse had quickened with trepidation. Never before had he felt this sort of foreboding, and Indrid knew that Lydia's spirit was losing its grip on his.

After twitching his head left and right for what seemed like an hour, Indrid found the house. Just as described, someone had done a bad parking job on the lawn. He parked his own machine nearby, careful to position it for his escape.

Visibility was narrowed to almost nothing, maybe five meters. The sky was red... no, just grey,but tinted red. But as the dragon stared upward at it, the space between Earth and the stars themselves glowed crimson.

Before his reptilian body froze, he hurried to the door. Within his flowing, black trench coat, he clutched a weapon to his chest. Using the other hand, he reached for the door, gripping the handle and turning it clockwise. His fist moved as fast as a second hand, slowly gliding until the latch opened and the door slowly opened itself.

Within, Indrid could smell the energy of the undead. But that sound... what was that music? As if someone trying to produce a creepy effect, she had turned up the volume on a stereo. It blared, not as loud as his music at home, but this was not as good. The Downward Spiral...

Though it was ridiculous, and Indrid quickly fumbled for the lights--finding them unresponsive--in order to turn it off, he thought it matched the dilemma well. His mind was spiraling down to Lydia, but unlike the poor soul singing, he would get back up and put his lover on a pedestal once again.

Indrid tripped and stumbled through the house. It was too big, too big for one person, and he or she had put too much furniture and stuff around. It might have been a trap for burglars or zombies. No matter, Indrid wanted to turn that noise off quickly.

He found the stereo sitting underneath a pile of magazines, pornography and sports. Kneeling, he began poking at it, hoping his digit would hit the stop button. The dragon could not find it, so he grasped the machine and stood, pulling it away with a yank,

severing the plug's snug fit into the wall.

Dropping it, he thrashed his torso in order to rid himself of the heavy coat, brandishing his weapon. The same dagger she had used months before to issue her love stab. He could still feel it, still remember it, and it still gave arousal.

No time to reminisce, he began searching the rooms, every chamber in the house, to no avail. The girls were invisible, it seemed. As his spirit became commensurate with the undead's, the air became cold and stale, influencing him to go elsewhere where his

destiny was leading.

Oh, stairs, they're in the basement.

Pulling another handle, unlatching the device, he pushed it open. The door groaned loudly, the hinges seething with rust, and thumped against the wall. No light, just the fluid darkness that flooded the entire house like water filling the skull of a corpse buried

in Earth.

Stepping carefully, he moved down there, hoping to step on someone. Yet they were still hidden, two more rooms determined to be vacant of his feminine prey. The place brought trepidation, and he found the emotion strange. Like his fear felt earlier in the

car, this inundated him tremendously, yet this was a bit different...

It looked just like his own basement.

Entering the final room, amazement exploded from his senses as he saw a recreation. Just like his own underground room, this one was set up with a center table and leather toys. The walls were red, and the light from above was very dim.

Yes very much the same, but his room was always minus a fat, naked panda strapped to the wall.

Once again, the sight of a male in such a condition only perturbed him, but he chuckled as he approached. Adrian, poor Adrian, looked up to see a dragon, wielding a knife, grinning, stepping towards him.

Adrian struggled, muffled pleads going indecpherable through the fabric and duct tape covering his jaw, his weakened arms fastened at the wrist to leather straps above his head. Indrid looked closely, flicking his tongue, sniffing at the mammal. Blood was the first thing sensed.

"Looks like Lydia had her fun with you. She do this to the pretty birdie too?" He reached with his free hand to touch Adrian's throat, no blood there. That red leak was from his wrists. Touching his wrists, it coated the reptile's fingers. Licking it off, he

heard a voice from behind.

"That belongs to Lydia." She hissed. Indrid turned to see darkness, the light from above not bathing the area under the stairs. Out stepped the bird, the crow, Katlyn, that mohawk dangling in front of her right eye.

"You wretched thing." The dragon growled, holding his knife up to stab her, taking a step.

"So you want to go back to jail, Indrid?" Spoke the darkness.

This new voice came from above him, and he shot his eyes up to see faint movement, a body descending to him. He fixed his eyes on her movement, those limbs swaying delicately at her side, wrapped in white, flowing fabric.

A gown she wore, lovely Lydia, a long, white dress that looked like a...

"Are we to be married?" Asked the dragon, she did not change her visage.

"Indrid, you look so beautiful now, my dragon..." The drone crooned so softly, even though mostly dead inside. Indrid stared, her face so familiar and forged in his memory like those words carved into her tombstone.

"Lydia Sameera." He whispered, smiling with joy, finally able to speak such poetry of his lover. He placed his dagger on the table. With both hands outstretched, his fingers to embrace her neck with love, not ligature, he stepped forward.

The animal before him was an angel. If angels did truly exist, they were not celestial, they were one's own true love, a person's ultimate spiritual mate. Indrid sighed, his eyes glistening with tears, knowing how much she was his again.

"I am here for you now..." She took his hands and embraced him, gripping his torso with both arms. He moaned with absolute pleasure, her cooling skin against him, her scent filling his mouth and nose, that knife in his gut.

"Agh!" He screamed, retching backward to grasp the blade now nestled deep into his abdomen, cutting his intestines and whatnot.

"But just to take your life... sweet Indrid..."

He glared at her in anger and astonishment, pulling the knife out to allow the vessels within him to weep, his life crying, flowing over his hands and legs.

Like he had done to himself previously, Lydia carved herself, opening the tissue on her palm to allow their passage. One hand viscously around his throat, the other--the wounded--to press against his oozing rip, absorbing the fluid, Lydia smiled, showing him her love, the love that he had left her with that day she died.

Indrid's mind drained fast. Before falling asleep, he saw only the shadow of Lydia and Katlyn. God knows what they would do to him.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

With that sort of wound, he would die fast. But no, not in these conditions, and as Indrid awoke, he understood that death would not come. With the workings of the madness he had unwittingly unleashed, his life would be shifted dramatically. The dragon would slowly die, then--right then--he would simply cross into another form.

"Ouch!" He screamed into the air, to the ceiling, "It's too tight!"

"Oh!" Lydia--maybe--breathed, "I'll fix that."

Indrid wondered if it was a dream, seeing those female shadows moving about him, so dark and surreal. That panda--still on the wall--his eyes now wide and his head darting left and right, mumbling, told the dragon it was not a dream. Those cuffs on his wrist were too tight, and no real pain manifested in dreams unless the dreamer clawed itself.

The dragon struggled to escape, by instinct, though he knew his captors had probably been efficient in keeping him secure. He longed to cover the tear in his scales and tissue, close it off with his fingers and allow the rhombus to form to heal him.

Lydia, with her avian companion, had chosen to keep his injury intact, yet were generous enough to apply a light bandage. Shaking his head, he blinked as the lights were brightened with the turn of a knob near the stairs on the wall.

"Sorry about that." Lydia apologized as she loosened the cuffs on his ankles and wrists. He sighed at her touch. Even though she had maliciously injured him and betrayed their pact, it was still a delight to feel her again. The only girl that had ever given him true pleasure, configuring his mind to her wicked ways.

"Are you gonna take my soul?" He asked, looking up to her face. In only a few minutes, she had began to rot again.

"I'm afraid so." She whispered, leaning over to touch his lips to hers. He opened his mouth and breathed inwards, inhaling her scent and wind. Pressing down, she kissed him, trailing her tongue into the reptile's muzzle. He moaned again, as she had drawn from him so many times before, tasting her lips.

Lydia moved her hands over his body, stroking her palms across his chest and down to his hips. It was then, when her fingers grazed over his groin, that he learned of his nudity. He tilted his head, bending his sore neck, to look down to see the condition of

his body. Perhaps they had gone through dramatic precautions and fractured both of his legs with a hammer.

However, she curtailed his examination by hopping up to straddle him. He sighed and grinned broadly, his soul charged with pleasure at seeing in such a position atop him. She, too, was nude mostly--she still wore those stockings, white lace--and Indrid could feel the moist, warmth emanating from her genitalia. Humidity seeping from the deep, red tissue not yet alive again.

Anticipating her actions, he stretched his back to arch his body up to touch her. Lydia leaned forward and lapped at his chin, the dragon sensing her entirety with his flickering tongue.

Yes, this was it, he knew it. Indrid's life on Earth was soon to change as he was to suffer a metamorphosis. No thoughts of regret or hatred would fuel him, that sort of notion could not overcome his proclivity to Lyida's essence. Whatever she was scheming for him, he would accept her in every way and devote all his passion to her.

Bathing him with that wet muscle, she continued to lick him, his face, his neck, his shoulders, his pectorals. Indrid shivered as he felt the saliva evaporate, felt her teeth nibble on him. There was nothing he wanted more than to let her absorb him. Indrid felt more inclined to let her to take all his mentality, sense and life.

Sliding both hands along his body, Lydia sensed the movements of his heart, the blood pumping through his arteries, seeping through the vessels breached for her transfusion. She lapped at that wound, piercing the coagulating muck to taste its glorious nutrition.

It took no time for him to grow erect. Just the thought of her caused his member to poke from his body, and now the feel of his goddess' corpus against and around him only promoted it.

She knew it immediately and grasped it, gripping tightly and pulling. In doing so, Lydia succeeded in taking his mind and claiming his soul as hers. Even though she would steal everything from him, she at least allowed him to enjoy it. Lydia would absorb everything, leaving his limbic system and hypothalamus to infuse his carnality.

Her vaginal walls were unusually loose, those cells dying still, forming a mush that would normally cause nausea. Indrid enjoyed it nevertheless, finally feeling himself slide inside of her. Her cervix twitched at the penetration.

The drone's body pulsed as it took his spirit, each thrust of her hips displacing it like a body slipping into a vat of water too filled. She humped and ground her body all against him, forcing his phallus deeper into her body, taking him more physically and mentally.

Indrid saw nothing around him, not that sharp crow's beak, not the abused panda on the wall. He could not feel air fill his lungs, the blood in his heart remaining static at cardiac arrest. But his mind surged with synapse, electricity flowing through the cortexual tissue to allow unfathomable pleasure.

Indrid growled in his spastic climax. Having felt that pressure around his member long enough to engender orgasm. She felt nothing of that sort, so much nerve decay having prevented it.

He came ferociously, opening his mouth wide to spit from his jagged maw a cry that resounded through the room, seems he had a bit of life left. As he pumped his creation fluid into her, she used it as rejuvenation, sucking all of his energy into her.

Adrian could not tell if the monster was killing, raping or pleasing him. A little all, and the panda would find out himself.

~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~***-***~^'^'^ ~~^'^'^~~ ^'^'^~

Earth's sky continued to flow with winter's icy assault. All that night, through the morning, and finally decreasing at the sun's apex. The sky had washed away the death from a lunatic, and now was preserving it with the cold, freezing it to store it forever in the crust.

Indrid's band, the louts who had all but forgotten about him, was glad to play that day. Practicing in the warehouse, they vibrated the air with their loud sounds.

The new guy, a short mole, filled the empty, six-stringed space with his presence. He was good, but not as good as Jeff, or even Indrid, but was quiet and did not give orders.

Camon pounded away at his instrument, pummeling the bass drums with both legs at machine-gun speed. He suddenly stopped though, pointing a drumstick towards

the door. All the others, five furs standing around, wondering why he had stopped, turned to see a group of memories.

That girl, Camon recognized her from before and her cryptic message for Indrid. Indrid had gotten it, violently, and had apparently made up with her. There they stood, accompanied by two others. A fat panda, appearing ill and about to vomit, and another girl. She must have been Lydia's sister; that was the only plausible explanation. But Lydia did not have a twin, Indrid would have told them about that sort of phenomenon.

That grey dragon approached, wearing his typical dress clothes, stepping to the singer, Nick.

"Indrid!" Camon shouted from his drums, "Come on, man, let it go." The rat was afraid of an immediate attack, perhaps Indrid was really here to get revenge, his threat having been very real.

All six noticed the smell then. The warehouse had always reeked of oil and sawdust, but this was like a sewer. Like someone that had been hoarding dead bodies.

Indrid grinned, showing his black teeth, exposing a dying tongue. Those teeth had always been so white and clean. Claws extended, the dragon reached to strangle his

friend, Nick, who gasped, wide-eyed, at the guttural, deathly sound from Indrid's throat. Maybe the dragon should have been their singer all that time, if he could get that growling down.

~THE END