No matter how much he scrubbed and scoured raw, abused skin, the stains would not abate. Crimson spreading until it consumed him, swallowed him in a coppery flood that left nothing in its wake. Only dreams of men he'd slaughtered, mutilated bodies stalking him through a murky forest, mutely promising retribution, their pound of flesh exacted from his very soul...until he awoke with a dying scream on his lips. And the feel of tight arms around him. Reminding him that not all was black and copper-coated in this world.
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