TheDustiestBook
Out of breath, she could growl no more. Her throat had completely dried, her mouth had turned to sand. Her body shook and quivered to no avail. Her whole being was agitated but confined to the stake. So up high her body suspended on that damned thing that from the earth she looked as if she were a black kite, thrashing around on the cross after being pierced through. Sky blackened by dark clouds, even the waxing moon was hard to see. The villagers marched in legions towards her. The women and their children had locked themselves in their homes at the command of their men, only the sound of crickets accompanying them on this unholy night. The men, however, marched forward with chants so loud that their intensity silenced even the wolves. "Burn the bloody witch!" "Burn the bloody witch!"
Their descent led them to the valley of hollow woods where the woman -nay, the beast- was dangling like a cooked fish since three days and two nights. A consensus was reached; death by fire was imminent.
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