The fleshdobbin looms, its hide slick with crusted blood, ribs etching shadows beneath taut, patchwork skin. Tack bites into unnatural contours, saddle sagging empty while stirrups dangle and rusted blades jut from its flanks like barbed spines. Legs terminate in gnarled human hands, claws scraping earth with hooked nails, as a thick neck of braided scars twists toward you. The head fuses horse muzzle with buried cheekbones and a gaping jaw, eyes milky and unblinking. Breaths erupt in dual torment—a equine wheeze tangled with a human's muffled cry—yet the bridle slips on, quelling its shudders into reluctant, obedient plod.