Part of herself on the periphery is a wolf-woman who awakens at 3 am, fierce and sweating from dreams of rending apart the poisoned flesh of her enemies. She follows the retreating image of her dark, desperate face in the glowing disk of the Western Moon, already on a downward trajectory to escape her question: Why did you summon me? With no answers, she gifts the heavens a hairy middle-fingered salute, and with one last howl, encloses herself in a slumbering cage of meat and bone. She will awaken at dawn, confused by the musky scent of anima imprinted on the tangle of rent sheets.
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