Hushed Willows wheres the kid with the chemicals? i thought he said to meet him here but im not sure

Müninn was hungry — and Müninn didn’t like being hungry. Like a river, she and @Hüginn traveled on, covering vast tracks of lands per day and doing it quite efficiently, if she did say so herself. Their travels were mostly silent, due to her twin brother’s reticence — they’ve already experienced a lifetime together, knew each other before they had been given life, and such proximity allowed for a quite intimate understanding of the deepest recesses of the other’s mind. They did not need to utter words in order to speak.

But it was this muggy summer afternoon that Müninn broke away from her brother to run uninhibited and sate the gnawing in her stomach. Her dancing feet took her to a place where the ground proved to be so fertile that many willow trees coexisted, their silken branches blowing in the gentle summer breeze as if it were the fur of the pale woman whom walked amongst it. It did not take long before the banshee scented her prey and followed hungrily after it — and when she saw it, a black-banded coon foraging through the drifting branches for the small insects that took harborage there, Müninn blended into the kaleidoscope of her milieu. 

She drifted closer, and closer, and closer still! and when she struck, she struck hard. The entire event was over in a matter of moments. 

The thing lay limpid against the earth and Müninn wasted no further time on thoughts for the departed. Instead she tore into the carcass, nipping it open and gnawing at the insides, with fervor and fire! She was not starving [she would never be starving with Hüginn beside her], but at that moment she looked a feral fright — muzzle-deep in a dimintuive, rodent-like ribcage, pale maw stained a sickly shade of pink that brushed her cheeks as if it were blush. The woman made quick work of the meal, devouring the entire creature before setting to the bones and chewing them clean. It seemed wrong to kill in the serene, whispering place — and surely she looked quite out of place, indulging in another’s flesh while surrounded with such beauty — but the morbid dichotomy of it was half of what drove Müninn do it. She was not hungry for food,  but hungry for disorder. Chaos was her aliment. 

So Müninn lay beneath the willows, grasping a twiggy femur bone between her forearms and grinding away at it with her molars.