Lavender / Open
She'd made her way to the river. The steady drizzle of rain made her gown stick all over to her skin. No notion of where she was going or why; just following the moon. Her mouth tasted like blood. Her feet were torn where she had not looked or cared where she walked. She was hungry. Weak. Not strong enough to hunt. Hurting.
There was a railing; she gripped it and leaned over, looking down at the water rushing over the dam. She stepped onto the lowest rung. Moonlight danced on the water. Calling. Calling.