Sanguine
Lavender never recovered, not fully. Not ever. She tried, sought solace when she could. But in the mornings after, covered in blood, exhausted from the loneliness, relief and recovery did not exist. Parvati was always there, a stable ground to come back to. But last night had been different. She hadn’t been alone in the woods, not the only one hunting, not the only one howling for more.
But she had awakened alone, cold, and in pain, the memories of the night before slipping away. There was something sinister and comforting about the other that night, encouraging her to do more. It felt freeing, shedding everything and finding company. But the other had attacked something, more than a simple rabbit as she had become accustomed to. Whatever it was, It was delicious, it was warm, and they had shared it with her. The fragments remained, the red of her memory staining her mouth, her hands, it was everywhere. But they were gone, and she was heaving as she searched for her wand, needing Parvati to find her. Yet it was gone too, leaving Lavender stranded with nothing more than her blood-stained chest and a hope that belonged deeper in the forest.