In the dark forest the moon hangs low.
My skin across my back twitches and aches as I see you across the way.
Red floods my vision and the taste in my mouth is bitter.
Shaking hands can't grasp or steady and my heaving chest is lifting me higher.
Bones burst through skin and fabric, pale and white. Clean.
Changing form, crawling, gasping, shaking, growing, teeth are snapping.
You are only looking.
And I am howling.
In the dark forest the moon hangs low.
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