Kekona's Story - Another Feast, and a New Den

Beyond the thorn roots, the gray wolf watches from the brush as a mud-streaked young adult woman stumbles into the hollow. Veyra Sorn is lean and travel-worn, with cropped auburn hair, a split brow, and a dark leather coat hanging torn from her shoulders.

She clutches a narrow sword whose runes give off a shallow blue glow. Blood and rain stain her boots, and each breath comes harshly as she follows the scent toward the spring chamber.

Veyra crosses beneath the roots and steps into the passage mouth. The bronze charms become visible first, swaying above the black basin, their delicate chime trembling through the damp air.

Then she sees Kekona beside the spring. Veyra stops so abruptly that her glowing blade dips, and the wolf behind her lowers itself into the brush without making a sound.

The charms continue their patient ringing between them. Veyra’s gaze flicks from Kekona to Tarin’s scattered remnants, then to the dark lower sluice beyond the basin.

Kekona launches across the spring chamber, her long limbs folding and extending with startling speed. Her massive body crashes into Veyra before the glowing sword can rise.

The impact drives Veyra onto the wet stone beside the basin. Kekona’s forepaws pin her shoulders, while her scorpion tail curls over the fallen blade.

Veyra struggles once beneath the manticore’s weight, then freezes as black claws press through her torn coat. The runes on her sword flicker uselessly at Kekona’s side.

Outside the roots, the gray wolf bolts into the brush. Bronze charms clash above the basin, and the spring carries a thin red ribbon beneath the stone.

Kekona’s claws tighten through Veyra’s torn coat. The glowing sword remains trapped beneath her tail as the manticore lowers her head toward the woman’s throat.

Kekona bites down, silencing Veyra. The bronze charms erupt above the basin, their frantic clamor mingling with the spring’s rush as blood darkens the wet stone.

Veyra’s blue-runed sword flickers once beneath the manticore’s tail, then fades. Her struggles weaken beneath Kekona’s forepaws until her body lies still beside the basin.

Kekona tears through the dead woman’s leather coat and flesh, eating with steady, detached bites. The spring carries thin red ribbons beneath the black stone.

When Kekona finishes, only scraps of dark leather, the narrow runed sword, and scattered blood remain. The gray wolf stays far beyond the roots, silent and watchful.

The charms settle into a soft, uneven ringing. Kekona resumes her place beside the clear spring, while the lower sluice murmurs unseen beneath the ridge.