Sheepeater Cliff the junkyard, the cemetary

there was a pride evident in her companion's voice that brought a small smile struggling to indra's lips - it was enviable, and it was admirable. indra wished she could profess her name in such a fashion -- but all it did was bring painful memories to the surface.

she looked up at the sheep above, safe from their grasp and far from concerned by their presence. the sheer face of the cliff was intimidating and the sheep butted and frolicked as if unconcerned by the possible plummet.

"never," she admitted, though in truth it was her fault she had yet to taste them -- she simply had no appetite for killing. "sometimes if you're lucky they fall and you'll see buzzards or crows around. you could climb up there yourself, but that's their world -- not ours -- i'd be afraid of the outcome, myself."