He growled at Phoebe when she approached the mattress. That day’s bucket swung in her hand when she lowered it to the floor and sat down in front of him- close, but not too close.
“I can’t die.” She stared at Silver’s teeth, cracked slightly to reveal a black void of a maw. “Were you confused?” The tip of his tail twitched. He leaned forward.
Phoebe reached into the bucket and produced a small chunk of meat. All of his attention was on her; she hesitated. The feeling of his jaws crunching down on her hand–canines cutting through the myriad of bones–loomed in her memory. He leaned further forward, neck stretching in an attempt to reach the food she was keeping from him. An apology escaped under her breath as she held her hand out to him. Silver bit into the meat and took it from her far too gently, then with a quickness he flicked his head back and sent the morsel down his throat.
Julia had handed the bucket to her only moments ago, when she’d asked if she could see him.
“It’s about time for his dinner. Might help break the ice,” she’d told Phoebe.
Maybe it had been a mistake.
“We’re fucked,” Phoebe sighed, “everything’s fucked.” She pulled more meat out. As she fed Silver, she explained their situation. She told him about being a fledgling, about the ritual, about what Julia had said. About how they were both trapped in a bond that nobody’s hands could sever. She didn’t mention anything about the lake. He hadn’t bitten her yet but she was certain he came close a few times, when his tongue swiped over her palm before picking up the meat.
Hello I am sick (not covid) and trying to pretend like I'm not in hopes that my body gets the memo, to mixed results.
I also think it's funny when authors talk about how we're all natural-born big dreamers and how we all have these great profound ideas that should make us famous, meanwhile I write Katabasis lol