Hoshor Plains lord hear me now, junkboats and english boys

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under a veil of indigo skies smattered by crystalline constellation of thick stars, iliksis parted from the tree-line and slid into view of the darklit plains. the thin crescent moon afforded very little light, washing the flatlands in a weak and ineffective pearly glow.

iliksis could hear bison rumbling in the distance, their forms dark shadows against the rising night. he was hungry - his belly had not seen a meal in a week - but not so hungry as to brazenly stalk into bison camp. in silence he stalked off towards the river, trailing the various scents of wildlife and wolf with a muted sense of interest.