“Cease your bids for murder, you wretch,” she hisses, letting loose a stone across the ground. The heavy thunk where it sinks into the dirt sends a cry of alarm into the air as one crow takes flight; following it are many others, joining in the cacophony of piercing screams as they take into the night sky. The absence of the crows milling around offers her little comfort where she sits, by a cold hearth, acting as the lone warden to a dead man.
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deormageddon
