"What the hell?" she grumbled, opening the screechy screen door to the muggy summer evening, immediately halting the wild growling and fleshy thumps.
In the week since her husband's death, she'd grown so furious with the the world, so cold, that she eagerly anticipated this chance to unleash her aggression on whatever was fighting in her backyard.
The widow raised her wooden bat and stepped into the night, unsure what she would find. The bat fell from her grasp as the only remaining combatant, a pathetically bloody mutt, whimpered in a small pool of light.
Carefully, she approached the wounded animal, her icy armor melting with each step until she was once again a woman.
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