I skitter over skin, searching for the perfect spot. My host can’t see me as I dig through her dermis, but soon enough she’ll feel me. She’s done nothing wrong; she just tastes oh-so-sweet and was in the wrong place when I caught her scent. I’m at her muscle now, the sinewy goodness quenches my hunger-lust momentarily.
It’s time for the fun to begin.
My pincers snip away at tissue, I don’t need it but I want it. I hear her now, my venom filling her, making her scream in agony. I call for my siblings. Let our plague begin.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Heartwood by R.J. Cannon"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Denied by J.B. Corso"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Cold Recognition by Andreas Flögel"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Winter Feast by Pauline Yates"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>