Some new distraction was wanted, she decided as she descended back into the crumbling keep. Down the spiral stair, she mused, her frown deepening with every step. Finally, lost in thought, she found she’d come before the double doored entryway of her tomb—her deathly bower. Sighing, she tried to remember who it was, whose corpse, she’d left lying half dead within her grave. Over the past month, hadn’t he told her? He must have when he’d first come. Fred, Mike, Zack, or something.
It wasn’t important. She was hungry, and he was food. Who cared what his name was?
Tale Told 