A leash that, with time, she had come to cherish with all her love. A leash that she held deep at night, even when the metal burned against her skin and chaffed where it had constricted around her soul. Still, this was not normal. The leash she had worn had lain discarded for weeks, no longer necessary to keep her bound to the Black Witch. Regrettable, but necessary now, in a bid to teach her Kin to heel. To stand at their Mistress’s side unmoving, unwavering in her conviction and her flesh. 