Felltree Marsh reach for the dead

The outline of ribs peaked out beneath thin dark fur, long legs seemingly longer thanks to malnourishment. The witch was starving, slowly but surely. Having her every need tended to from such a young age stunted her hunting skills, and the pressures of the lone way of life were not friendly. What's more, she relied on her sisters quite heavily, and now they were both gone. One more-so than the other.

The young coywolf picked her way through a sodden marsh, taking in the broken land. What were once perhaps tall, mighty trees were nothing more than rotting logs and hollows for birds to hole up in. A single, plump waterfowl roosted in one such nest, and Lakhesis eyed it carefully with a half-crazed stare. She licked her lips before rising, muddy waters clinging to her ragged coat, and began a slow stalk towards it, eyes never straying from their unwary target.