Dora looked down at her hands.
They were smeared with foul, pus-streaked blood.
Her mates stared in horror. The swollen bumps on Dora's face had grown larger, and now that she had scratched them open, her skin was covered in raised wounds and oozing sores. Her once delicate features were distorted, streaked with blood and torn flesh. She looked terrifying.
Instinctively, they stepped back.
"Ahhh!"
Dora screamed and rushed outside to the water vat.
She leaned over it and saw her reflection—her face clawed raw and ruined.
"My face… my face! How did this happen? How did this happen?!"
She stumbled backward in panic, tripped over a stone, and fell hard onto the ground.
Sitting there, she stared ahead, eyes wide with fear and emptiness.
