Lake Lewisia #272

[scrubjayspeaks]

Hands on hips, she said, “I don’t know how you found your way here or what kind of manners you learned outside, but we have protocols for this sort of thing here.” The pale figure who had bitten her neck shrank away, self-consciously wiping a smear of stolen blood from the corner of their mouth. “Now we’re going to walk toward town,” she insisted while pressing a tissue to the punctures, “and you’re going to tell me exactly what you need blood for, so I know which service is going to be able to meet your nutritional requirements.”

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LL #272