As consumed as she had been, she had to finally concede that the beast-man had shown her, time and again, that she would be wiser not to defy him — nor his monstrous whore. Once again, she was no match, neither for the intoxicating fragrance exuding from the bewitching creature — a perfume she, as a woman, could only loathe — nor for the colossus, ready to do anything to prove himself worthy of having his monsteress open her thighs to him.
Garance longed to cross paths with the beast again, when he would be less preoccupied. Men repulsed her; those who were otherwise engaged, all the more so — yet the fixation endured...

A sigh, the ghost of a bitter chuckle, slipped from her nostrils; her ears pressed against her neck, shoulders slumped, gaze still riveted on the towering figures. Slowly, she slipped into the gloom, melding with the thickets until she vanished from their sight...