⌗ 𝓗Өꪶꪶᨵׁׅฬ P𝓔ꪖ𝐊 .ᐣ.ᐣ
The wind howls louder tonight. The mountain's breath. It gnashes at the door like a beast starved of its soul. I feel its hunger, its pulse under the skin, a constant ache, a beast under my ribs. I have tasted bread, but it is never enough, never enough to silence this gnawing, this gnashing, this emptiness.