Quote:
Originally Posted by Silver Pinneaple
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Quinoa faintly felt him press his warm pelt against her flank. She felt the rain blur her vision, and she stumbled along a rocky cobblestone pathway. “Where are we going?” Her question was answered as a small brick wall came into view. She limped along, holding her bloody paw in the air, just brushing the ground. She flattened her ears against the wind, her fur wet and slick in the pelting rain.[/FONT
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He leads her to his home “ to my home of course-“ his eyes glowed softly as he begins to look around “ ... something is wrong... something is really wrong.” He quickly pushes her inside the house “ stay here and whatever you do don’t-“ He was cut off by the laughter of a mad man.