Solid hollow, wrapped in hatred/ Not a drop of venom wasted....
The summer sun hung just above the smoke and haze of a distant fire, choking the skies with a red blush. Dry this far from the southern rains, dead grasses and branches perfect kindling for any wildfire that felt ao inclined to spark. Never bothered Tick much, not when they held no ties to the lands beyond the basic respect for it- less so closer to cities they got. It was just outside some developed city, far enough to not have to deal with the concrete maze but not far enough to be close enough to commune easily with the green.
The pale hunter sat in the shade of the old camper, their paper white skin a pinkish hue despite having tried to avoid the summer sun best they could. Long brass-stained white hair was kept up and away from the face and covered neck by means of a light bandana scarf- too hot for the beanie, especially given how covered the woman was from head to toe. Modesty took precidence over comfort outside the even hotter interior of the camper.
A solid black mass sat beside the hunter as she went about her work- currently skinning and processing some dead snakes, milking their fangs over a small cast iron cooking pot. The beast seemed undeterred by its master's work, panting heavily as Tick continued tirelessly.
Tonight was a hunt, and they wanted to be prepared.
@kaengeru
