Infante

Jessie stabbed at the thing, the blade sticking through a cluster of tendrils and biting into the wood of the road.  The struggle that followed was a hellish thing, because it mandated she take the hardest road and threatened to end her if she hesitated for a second while walking it.  She dragged the thing free of her sinuses, throat and mouth, inch by inch, and it made sure that every inch felt like she was hauling knives and fishhooks out, the points facing in the worst directions.

It felt like it was grabbing the inside of her chest.  It closed its airways and tried to starve its host of oxygen so she might relent.  A tentacle touched her eye, and threatened to find a gap to disappear inside and unfurl hooks in there.

Lamb Arc 18 III