The howling is loudest at night.
By dawn, the quiet returns and with it, the horrid smell that brings the dogs.
I long for the moment I can pry those doors open and leave this place.
As I tried to sleep, I realized I couldn't recall the last time I heard a songbird.
Do any yet live? I haven't noticed.
Last night we awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of something pounding on the walls. It roared and stomped and howled in frustration… until it found the doors. They didn't hold.
I never saw it. We were too occupied blindly firing around a corner. I just remember the smell of wet earth, and a sound I've never heard before. Like a machine being stretched and then compressed.
When it was over, we'd lost members of our Black Armory family and the thing—whatever it was—got away.
I lost one of my sisters. Helga…
We had our problems, but she was right about so many things. I know that now.
I wish I could have told her.
My daughter was injured during the attack.
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