#winfred

Solas breathes heavily, shaking slightly. This had been a much more difficult kill than anticipated, not that they’d been prepared for some hellish and twisted mass of flesh to erupt from a dormant tree and try to tear them apart. Some of the dolls are collecting meat, blood and bone from the creature, others are helping the witch tend their wounds. Shielding them as they do.

“If ya came to see what the noise was, yer an hour too late and I ain’t got an answer besides ‘a fight’.” they say, glancing up at the stranger who had likely just stumbled across them. But best to cover all bases to avoid long conversation. Pouring a clensing solution along a gash on their leg, the witch makes an irritated face, Their fault for wrapping up so tight in their blankets, it had cost them time to dodge. 

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