The glimmer on the hilltop gives his position away.
Kara sighs; the fool is watching, always watching, and once again her ritual goes unfinished, leaving her dangerously exposed.
Already a hunger claws at her soul, an insidious yearning stalks her every waking moment. Soon she will be powerless to resist…
The falcon by her side cocks his head, seeking permission.
“No…” But she hesitates, and the bird takes to the skies, talons outstretched.
Later, as vultures circle the hilltop she recommences purification.
The eyes in a jar on the table see nothing.
“Just a minor transgression,” she murmurs, folding her hands in prayer.
It’s that time of the week again – Friday Fictioneers all over the world are flexing their imaginations, consulting their muses, tapping at keyboards. Thanks once again to Rochelle, our gracious hostess.