Published 2021-03-02Camilla Ochlan
Tyrin sniffed at the black splotch. It smelled like decay and rot. His olfactory sense offended, he backed away quickly — fur on end — and nearly lost his hold on the tapestry. He plopped downward, but a fast front paw prevented him from plunging far. For a moment, he dangled by one claw as if he were a hurricane lantern hanging from a short hook.
As the little cat hauled himself up, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. He dug his claws deep into the weft of the tapestry and concentrated on the far edge of the unnerving shadow. To his amazement, Tyrin spied something small and dark break away from the large mass. The skittering thing lifted from the center of the black void, its motion a mere ripple in the material.
Tyrin's muscles contracted, and an annoyed chitter escaped through clenched teeth as he fought his instinct to spring.
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