PureFang

An excerpt from a (hopeful) future novel.            A slinky silhouetted figure slithered across the back alleys of Hawkshaw. Their footsteps left no echo, not a trace remained of their presence. Movements with a demeanor of a dancing child, yet swiftly and sly, like a fox. A skirt swayed with their fluid movements, and the wild blonde hair that draped down to the small of their back, acted as a curtain. A largely brimmed hat shielded alert, mischievous eyes.      They deeply inhaled the fumes of the volcano, held their breath, and heavily exhaled. At first the smell stifled, and constricted her lungs, like the tourists that passed throug