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ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｉｎｖａｓｉｏｎ　ｏｆ　ｂｅａｓｔ　ａｎｄ　ｃｏｒｐｓｅ[/center][/color]

She could only suppose that she could stand to help the others. While the witch's domain was of healing and nobody was harmed enough to merit such an action, the boredom of idling in relative safety seemed to poison her mind. Or more accurately, it would be called a sense of duty to not do nothing as others acted. Especially as that awful stench filled the air. It was a smell that even the witch cared not to breath, her hand covering her face and mouth.

Or perhaps it was a vague inspiration from the noble sacrifice of a strange person who intended on being bait. Though, she would never admit that--even to herself.

A new guest had appeared. A beast of fang and claw. One entirely unfamiliar to the witch--though she could not recollect any sort of beast beyond an abstract understanding of what one possessed. Judging by the beast avoiding the easier targets, it seemed that the one with orange fur was an ally. Or perhaps it was merely saving them for a later snack judging how the beast fearlessly chomped at the toxic vicissitude of the aberrant. Not to mention the flare of light from the beast. Her eyes were not attuned to such bright lights. She was a creature of the night. Or, at least, a creature of beneath shade.

They could handle the beast. For what use was a doctor on the frontlines? One wayward swing and the entire line would be irreversibly damaged. Instead, the witch moved towards the corpse mounds. Rotting flesh was still flesh, after all. The bald oddfellow probably needed help. The witch moved towards her, corpses beginning to rise from the pile.

[color=c5d1ae]"I would suggest you leave the pile,"[/color] she said as she placed her hand on a rising corpse. The decayed muscled condensed, contractions beginning to radiate from where the witch touched. The corpse stopped rising. Instead, it twisted and contracted into itself. Sounds filled the witch's ears. The snapping of sinew and tendon. The crunching of bone. Muscle turning on itself. It was slow and calculated. A violent usage of flesh-shaping.

Of course, the thought crossed her mind to simply fuse all of the corpses together. Though, seeing the dead rise didn't inspire confidence in that plan. She didn't quite like the possibility of turning many small problems into one very large one.