Pandora was riding a monster, her fingers were dug deep into its fur, the first of its three great dorsal fins rose behind her and supported her as it ran.

“Where are we going?” She asked the Wasco…

“To hunt” it answered, and she shivered, she did not want to hunt, said part of her, the part that was terrified of this dream. But they would…and she must.

“Why are you here?”

She asked it, wishing she could get off, that she would not have to witness what was to come. She feared she would know the faces of the victims, they did not hunt orca tonight, they hunted ‘men’.

“I am your totem.” It answered, and its voice was primal, violent and pleased.

“I thought it must be Raven…” she said and glanced skyward for some hope of rescue, but the tricky bird was nowhere to be found.

“Your anger is mine, silence little one, silence and watch.”

She watched, she could feel what its teeth tore into, feel its claws like her fingers, and to her horror with every tear and every scream she let out with each body it created she found herself laughing too. She felt split inside, a terrible violence that lodged deep in her soul that she wanted to deny. A violence that she indulged every evening tearing, rending and beating and denying that she had any say in it but knowing deep in her heart that it was she who let it go…

She told herself that it was to protect her family…her loved ones. She pretended she had no choice… but in truth she had started to enjoy it. Liberating in its destruction, she wept because her pretence was gone… she might love, and laugh as others did but she was born to destroy, born in anger and rage.

She tilted her head back to the moon to scream, and instead she howled, howled to the dark moon and promised that one day there would be an end, but she feared that all roads lead to her dead… or mad, and everyone paved in blood.