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Weekly Contest #378
TW: This story contains themes of physical and mental abuse I ran through the forest, following the scent I had. There was blood. My mouth was salivating, fangs pricking my lip as they unsheathed. I whipped through the trees, breaking branches as I went. Droplets of blood glistened on the forest floor. Fresh. Close. The iron heady scent filled my lungs with life. I heard leaves crunch close to me and I stopped. The walking was irregular. A limp. I made my way through the closely clustered trees. Slow. Waiting. A flash of red hair passed by...
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