Was it by pure luck or design that Cheshire found herself free of the abandoned churchyard? It had been her homestead for the past half-a-year and now she found herself without guidance, without oppression but still within dire straits. Returning back to familiar ground, the ex-Scout found every bare footstep she took on the broken ground left behind tiny trickles of blood; Accumulated from open wounds which littered her bare legs, knee-length shorts being torn to shreds at the hem. The abrasions were mostly centered around two old-world restraints that locked around either ankle, broken chains that had been wrenched free half trailing in her wake.
These weren’t the only forms of physical restraint which she’d been placed under prior to her escape, a mouth guard made from hard black plastic covered her lower features; A crude spray of white fangs appliqued along the front as a call to the only moniker she knew.
Buildings came into view, the ache of something in her mind calling her there for reasons she hadn’t understood. Curling herself down to sit in a small secluded place, she squeezed her fingers within the confines of her locked sleeves to rest.
Comprehension was messy when your mind was as far down the rabbit hole as Eli’s.