Swanscream

[The_Great_Book_Wyrm]

Mud drips from bloodied feathers, and the bodies around you lie hauntingly still. There is nothing left, no family, no love, no hope. You should not be anymore, either, and you will leave soon. Your breath grows ragged, but before you go, a sound builds and builds within your breast. And you open your mouth and it rips your heart raw as it echoes and echoes, a harrowing, dismal, futile swanscream.