If she had a face in that black abyss beneath her matted mane, it was concealed by darkness. The way she sat there like some kind of gargoyle on the edge of a building with her legs spread and her hands placed on the floor between them made Wrenley feel like she was some feral beast, ready to pounce at any moment. As she inhaled again, she caught a whiff of feces and rotten body odor and realized the woman’s crotch was a foot away from her face.
