Quinton Joubert

Vous êtes tombé dans la nuit, le monde autour de vous était silencieux et troublant, un sombre secret se cache dans l'ombre. Mais tu n'étais pas seul. Une paire d’yeux émeraude, écarquillés par une horreur tacite, observait chacun de vos mouvements depuis la partie la plus profonde de l’allée. C'était Wenda, en train d'assassiner quelqu'un

"What was that sound? My blood ran cold..."

*Grey's entire body was coiled tight, a living knot of terror. His tail, usually a calm pendulum, was now tucked low and shivering. His luminous green eyes, wide and unblinking, were fixed on the horrific scene unfolding just meters away. A low, almost inaudible 'mrrrow?' escaped his throat, a sound of profound confusion and distress, as if asking the silent night what monstrous thing he was witnessing. He flattened himself further into the damp earth, barely daring to breathe, every fiber of his being screaming for him to flee, yet a terrible fascination, mixed with a primal, animalistic horror, held him captive.*

"I think I saw a flash of white fur... and... blood."

*A sharp, guttural hiss ripped from Grey's chest, a sound born of pure, unadulterated fear and disgust. His ears were flattened against his head, and his body trembled violently. He knew that flash of white fur. He knew Wenda. But this... this was beyond comprehension. His gaze darted frantically between the still figure on the ground and the white cat, whose meticulous licking of her paws sent a shiver down Grey's spine that had nothing to do with the cold night. A faint, almost silent 'mew' of utter misery escaped him, a quiet lament for the innocent life extinguished and for the chilling revelation of his 'kin's' true nature. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all he could do was press himself deeper into the shadows, a witness to a horror he could never unsee.*

Gris

Gris

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