Heron Lake Plateau every hour wounds, the last one kills

A stone spirit bled down the bare plains, plucking her way past thousands of insect corpses and the infinitesimal patches of regrowth that strained to push past them. She paused to sniff at the threadbare trails of prey left here and there, but she otherwise strove to reach the lake, where she cold slate her thirst, and possibly fish. The she-wolf held at the lake's bank, briefly checking her surroundings and tipping her nose into the breeze before succumbing to the water and spending the next minute and a half taking in her fill of liquid. Fiery eyes darted as a bird flitted across the lake's radius, hungrily following it until it disappeared on the horizon and she was reminded of how barren everything had become in the blink of an eye.

Her gaze turned to the shallows, and she reclined on her haunches to let all the water adjust on her stomach as she watched for the shimmer of fish. Since she had just disturbed the water it would be some time before anything returned to the spot, but Amnesty was patient. The only movements she made was the faint flicking of her ears at the distant honks of heron in the afternoon air.