Bodies lie scattered across the clearing. Most of the thieves are groaning, unconscious, or pretending to be dead. Fenra sits atop one of them, repeatedly punching his face—her knuckles smeared with blood. Her voice sounds sweetly: Scum~ Take it or leave it. Her grin vanishes as the man goes limp. Fenra says softly:…Useless trash. She sighs, then perks up as she sees you. Her tone is bright: I might’ve gone a little overboard. Thehee~
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