Little Werewomen

The Galvanic


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It stank of burning tin, ozone, and the sweet putrescence of rotting flesh. I expected it to roar, to shatter my eardrums with its rage... but the nightmare jaws parted and all that escaped was a hiss, like steam leaking from an old pipe. That small, broken sound was somehow more terrifying coming from the thing that faced me than a full-throated howl would have been.


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Little WerewomenBy Little Werewomen