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Grim Wolf
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Tara spoke without thinking, and froze like a deer in the headlights when she realized her mistake. Worse, there was movement: another voice, calling out from down the beach. Suddenly exposed, suddenly teetering. This was no way to die happy.

And then all of that faded to the wayside, as the man in front of her asked for fishing supplies.

She blinked. She opened her mouth, closed it, and blinked again. She nodded slowly. "I've got some string," she said. "Or...yarn, I guess. Does this work?"

She fished out the bundle she'd found--the kind you might give to a kindergartner, thick and blue. It had faded a bit, like a dusty carpet, but the color was still discernible.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I don't really know anything about..."

She trailed off, as her eyes found a fourth shape down the way, clutching what looked like a broken bottle in her hand. Bridgette. She recognized the girl from one of the writing workshops she was a part of.

"Heads up," she whispered to the man asking for fishing supplies. She raised her voice and shouted, "Nothing's alright! But I don't think anyone's gonna hurt anyone else right here!" She lowered her voice and directed it towards the woman standing farther down the way. "Are they?"
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

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