Chatterbox: Inkwell

ROUND ROBIN!

Snow gleamed on the ancient hills, covering the twisted trees and old fence posts with a blanket of sparkles. A track of deep footprints cut across the smooth powder, crisscrossing and back tracking across each other, as if there had been many different people walking. 

Two men, the faces hidden under dark hoods, their bodies engulfed in black, trudged silently up the vast hilltop. The night air engulfed them, and they had no fear of being seen. One looked down at the set of prints, the other straight ahead, his long nose twitching, his eyes blinking rapidly. He began to move faster, almost gliding over the snow. His companion was left far behind, still intently studying the deep set of tracks. He did not look up. Licking his lips, he took a breath of the frigid winter air. Then he through back his head, his hood slipping silently off. Underneath was pale skin, bubbling and writhing as if there was very hot water in his skull and it was coming to a boil. He opened his thin mouth to reveal a set of teeth not unlike a sharks. And rising up out of his throat came... a snake.