"Inky," he hugged her, "I'll stay with you."

"I can feel time running out."

"I don't know where to look. People are afraid to get involved," he rubbed strawberry-blonde hair.

Through the mud and darkness, a low, guttural growl crushed the air. Gingerbread sweetness poured out of Marie's bronze skin. A wave of rotted vegetation crashed upon Eleanor. Around her the wet heat sunk into flesh, breathed upon exposed skin. Eyes like twin white suns peered through the night, and its gaze pierced the world. Ashless Hollow shifted, shadows swayed, and cold whispers devour the stillness.

The will of the forest drew close, and Marie turned towards the trees. Tim spoke, but she heard only the mire. Again, the thread shimmered in the dark, which carried the specks of light. Over the road, the pearlescent-white motes of flame danced, demanded to be seen. They sighed, pleaded. The great serpent lingered at the edge of the yard, tail thrashed.

A half rotted tree snapped in two. "Whoa," he turned, "that was like a bone breaking."

She looked at him, "You heard that?"

"Yes, Bethany said the Uroboros had stirred," he smiled. "She talked about lots of things, but the great serpent creeped me out."

She jerked, "What did she say about it?"

Tim frowned, blinked, for she had always been quick to dismiss her mother's stories. "Uroboros…she talked about it a lot, when she got sick. It is like a big snake or dragon that she said lived in the forest." He blushed, "Bethany was a good woman, Inky. She just got a little confused."

"What does it want?" she asked, but forced her hands to still.

"Balance," he shifted, "I never really understood, what Bethany meant by it."

Air thickened. The mote over the road flashed. "I think we should go back to town," she looked at Tim, as her heart raced. Following the corpse candles wasn't what she was doing, Marie promised. Anything to escape this madness was worth it. It flashed.

Upon the yard's edge, the Uroboros glared at Marie, deep fury boiled in white eyes. Long frills extended in a broad fan. Its mouth opened, fangs were of spectral stone. Marie stepped back, as the world gave away to the Veil. Tim turned, though nothing was there.

"Let's go," she swallowed, and stepped towards the truck, but kept an eye on the great serpent.

"Did you see something out in the swamp?"

"No," she focused on the truck, "I just have to get…on the job."

He walked to the truck, "Alright, Inky, we need to get back at it."

The Uroboros slithered over the yard. Marie's heart burst into a gallop. A chill coursed over her skin, turned hot sweat into icy pricks. Tim got in, and started the truck. Behind them, the great serpent drew ever closer, fury built in white eyes. They rumbled back onto the road towards the pearlescent-white ball of light. Shadows lurched and danced. Out of the mire, sorrowful whispers trundled behind them. Ashless Hollow held energy, pregnant with death, which tugged at Marie. Every step was haunted by the forest.

Ragged, held breath escaped Marie, as they emerged from Ashless Hollow. The Uroboros halted at the forest's rim, impatient fury thrummed through obsidian scale, yet it drew no closer. Tim, sensing Marie's apprehension, had checked the mirrors and trees. Both relaxed under the gaudy glow of soft neon, sickly glow of street lamps, and the furtive luminescence of the hovels. The manic shadow and accursed murmurs followed them over broken streets.

Marie rolled down the truck's window, gasped. Corrupted sting of meth labs corroded the sullied rot that permeated the trailers and earth. She coughed, gagged. It was bitter in the mouth, like a clump of grave dirt, which had been pissed on. Apocalyptic thunder shook the air, and sent a tremor through the truck. Echoes careened about the land to finally die. Fine hairs rose on her body. Above, lightning jousted in fervor of dazzling flashes, yet none struck the ground. Marie listened to the night, prayed, but the mad whispers traced them, cursed her.

All that lived followed a cycle; Bethany had taught Marie. An invisible snare that held you, until your circle ended. This prison of time and flesh marched forward, never back. It was immutable, inevitable, and inescapable. One was sent forward upon birth to death. New life became old, and started others on this path. Freedom was to know the cage, so you could see the chance to forge a meaning. Some, like the La Voison women, had a special purpose.

Marie sat back, closed her eyes. The purpose of her blood was a curse. Once, she had fled it to a place free of its chains. Life was a mystery most never bothered to understand. They floated along, bound to the path, from beginning to end. Married to insanity, the damned, unlucky few aware of the bindings struggled. Life was a ceaseless sacrifice to death. She rubbed her eyes, and cursed at the endless struggle. The past that dug its claws into her refused to be discarded.

"Inky," Tim said, and put the truck into park, "uh, where do we go now?"

She blinked away the dreamy malaise, which threatened to bring nightmare revelation. For a moment, her eyes cast about. A pearlescent-white orb burned above the road, beacon to the lost. "Just go slow," she said low, "and we'll see what shakes out." Sometimes, she knew, taking a chance was all one could do.

Tim followed her directions, and messaged or called friends or acquaintances. Motes of flames led them through Owl Sticks. Relentless heat, damp air, and the spilled blood had energized the low people of the trailer park. They roamed the streets, abandoned lots, and the formerly prosperous small businesses. Street lights danced in their eyes like ravenous corpses. People were hungry for blood, rumors spread. None cared if it was a high or low born that bled, only that someone screamed. These drug addled townsfolk wondered around to catch any glimpses of violence. One danced in the street to music she could only hear. Two men came to blows, as other cheered their graceless brawl. They moved past the little congregations that spoke low to each other, and the shadows shivered less. The balls of white flame danced more smoothly.