[They're on their hands and knees, more or less, spitting blood and petals to the ground. Clots of whitish floral matter gummed up with their pink blood splat wetly to the ground. The Drifter shivers.]
KEEP MOVING
[Regardless of whether or not it's still behind them, and they assume it must be, this is hardly a good place to stop.]
no subject
KEEP MOVING
[Regardless of whether or not it's still behind them, and they assume it must be, this is hardly a good place to stop.]