leaving it aw, but specifically for papa @Vengeance
The scent that Piglet had found a few days prior never left her.
Not that she wasn't used to the pervasive scent of rot that haunted the hallowed grounds, but this particular scent was new. It would drift in on the wind, sickly saccharine sweet, and be gone just as quickly — frustrating any lame attempt she could make to follow it, and satiate the gnawing curiosity of her mind.
Though her body was spent from an afternoon stalking one of the season's earliest fawns and salvaging all parts of its corpse, her brain never seemed to tire. She thought about the scent, and where the fuck it came from, and she channeled this endless churning into grinding her back teeth on the thin, toothpick-esque femur bone.
Lilith bore down until she heard a snap, and smiled as she tasted marrow.
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