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[diarists]

[maybe in this place, this time, this moment that sounds like cracking natalie’s ribs open and feasting on what’s inside, shauna doesn’t think to be angry. it’s not like those last days, that final winter, the searches and the paranoia and the surety that someone’s out to get here, out to destroy her. because – now she is sure. there’s a noose circling around her throat, and soon she’ll end up caged or – worse.

they’ll catch her, they’ll corner and cage and chain her, muzzle and shackles until they feel like they can sleep at night again, because the beast is finally subdued. but misty – misty who plotted against her, misty who never followed her like she did nat, because nat was the first and last queen in her eyes, her heart, misty who poisoned and lied and manipulated her way into shauna escaping the cage the first round – misty would let her free. misty would let shauna’s monstrous teeth and vicious jaws close around whoever’s throat they wished.

so she doesn’t resist the hand in her hair, the wrench backwards, the bloodied mouth hot and hungry against her own. shauna smiles her wolf’s teeth and arches upwards, bares the line of her throat, jugular and esophagus and vocal chords, bared and waiting. misty almost-kisses her and shauna parts those teeth on a laugh, says soft, coaxing:] C’mon. You can do better than that. [because she’s older, because she’s more experienced, but – the after doesn’t matter, only the woods, only the wilderness, only them.

so shauna presses closer, whispers:] Creepy stalker Misty Quigley and all those huts without doors, with holes for windows. Van and Tai – me and Mel. Natalie, alone, thinking about Travis. [she lets it linger, bloodied hand reaching out, fingers grazing up misty's arm, to her shoulder, along her collarbone.] Don’t tell me you never imagined us. Don’t tell me you never watched.

light necrophilia....? ffs.

[transponders]

[ The last time she killed Natalie, she rotted in bed for weeks, and Shauna hadn't offered to make her soup, she hadn't offered a shoulder to cry on. She hadn't even had the decency to call. It's okay. She doesn't clean up her murder scenes or try to keep the fingers of the angry mob off her because she expects anything in return, she does it out of loyalty. When had they all forgotten it? They split apart and faked their deaths and broke their promises, all of them but Misty the liar, the creep, the stalker.

They were meaner back then, but they were their realest selves. Their best, most free selves, not the modified, chopped up versions of themselves that were acceptable to serve to the world when they got back. If she likes Shauna better like this, and Shauna likes her better like this, then someday, the hunt will be on. But today, Shauna trusts her more than she ever has. There's warmth in that. Satisfaction. Even as she snipes at her, bites with her teeth and with her tongue, all cruelties, all true. ]

I did.

[ Snarled and rabid, she reaches for Natalie, just to make sure she's still there. Cold and soft, turning the flaps of her skin back into place, hand stopping for too long on her breast. She's still beautiful, even like this. Shauna is most beautiful now, mean and alive and hot beside her.

Misty takes another bite, and wields the truth like brass knuckles, as she has since she arrived, as she passes the meat from her own mouth to Shauna's. ]

Natalie died because of me. Your reign is over because of me. You eat because I let you. So watch your mouth. I only watched her.

more of that ig

[diarists]

[shauna still hasn’t asked about – herself, then. about how she is, twenty-five years on, whether she ended up as cunning, as self-preserving as misty. the paranoia reminds her of the deepest parts of that second winter, her need to protect herself, and she respects it’s adult counterpart in this version of misty. this misty is closer to her now, to shauna in the wilderness, another bloody-mouthed wolf, snarling and snapping, mouth full of meat.

misty turns, smooths, caresses natalie’s corpse and there’s a sharp spike of that old, sour-wound jealousy – the one that had festered in the core of shauna since that night, since natalie was crowned, the hollowed-out envy of it should be me – because it will always be her. misty will choose the corpse of her queen over any real girl, any day, and shauna can’t even hate her for it, because if jackie were laid out there instead, she’d do the same. she’d covet every bite in misty’s mouth, tear it from between her teeth, swallow every chilled, iron-rich scrap of flesh as quick as she could.

if it were jackie, shauna wouldn’t have let anyone else come along.

but they were there, kneeling beside natalie and shauna is chewing meat gone gelatinous with time, congealed blood, the way it got in the storehouse, the familiar gamey flavor, better than elk, than rabbits or ducks or squirrels. she swallows and bites again, but it’s at misty’s mouth this time, hands suddenly reaching, grasping, smearing blood – a handprint down the front of misty’s shirt, months of curiosity finally snapping.]

Okay. You deserve a medal, whatever. [another grasp, this time finding purchase, fingers curled around misty fucking quigley’s perfect fucking tits, because god damn it shauna’s waited long enough.] You never imagined how anyone else did it? I know you could hear us all. [a squeeze, too rough, too proprietary, thumbs finding misty's nipples, dragging slow, teasing circles.] You never thought about me like that?