Wapun Meadow You can't be late until you show up.

dating this to be on the afternoon of 8/27, y/n?

Warm sunlight spilled over the meadows, illuminating the richly flowered meadow with an almost ethereal glow. Shimmering heat waves ebbed and flowed over lush vegetation, but the heat was a liquid one, continuously tempered by the occasional blustery gust. Sien had stretched herself out leisurely amongst the taller grasses, largely hidden from view in part thanks to her flaxen coloration. Relaxation was a luxury she rarely partook in, but she’d had a string of good luck with prey lately, and it seemed wasteful not to enjoy a moments’ repose while she still had the chance.  Less than an hour ago, she’d made a meal out of a plump cottontail – after thanking the rabbit for its life – and now, satiated and somewhat little drowsy, Sien groomed herself, thoughts spinning idly.
 
As her teeth worked gently to untangle a knot of matted fur, she found herself yearning, as always, for Cerise’s company. If Cerise were here, well…she’d be as restless and talkative as ever, Sien supposed. Smoothing her tongue over the straightened strands, she wondered, rather abruptly, what Cerise would’ve - no, would think about Niall and the Sect. She’d be curious, Sien decided, and skeptical. Cerise was always asking questions, probing, wanting to know details, specifics; she thrived on information. Sien had never seen the point before, having always accepted things at face value until proven otherwise – but now, left with all these unanswered questions about the Sect after Niall’s untimely death…the value was certainly more than apparent.
 
This never would’ve been a problem for Cerise, Sien thought, swiping her tongue in a broad swath across her side. She would’ve gotten all her answers upfront, asking things like “Why is the Creator a ‘he’?” That inquiry in particular was one Sien had never even thought to ask until it was too late. She supposed it must’ve had something to do with duality and Terra, or maybe she’d been right in the first place and it didn’t really matter at all. Where ‘overthinking’ seemed to bring clarity and contentment to Cerise, it merely gave Sien a headache. Dispelling the thoughts before she actually developed one, Sien paused in her efforts and merely rested, laying her face against the ground and relishing the unique contrast between the warmth of the grasses and the residual coolness of the earth.
 
And then the vibrations began. Her enjoyment was doomed to be short-lived, it would seem. They started as a faint trembling, but even that was enough to put Sien on edge instantly. Her head was up in a flash, and she scanned the horizon for signs of trouble relentlessly, pale eyes peering over the tops of the grasses. She found it soon enough, even before the trembling intensified to actual shaking and the gradually rising chorus of dozens of thundering hooves reached her. A herd of pronghorn was rapidly approaching, plumes of dust curling upwards in their wake. Hackles raised and bristling, Sien leapt to her paws and issued a throaty warning growl, warding off their advance. The antelope turned sharply in response, putting on an additional burst of speed as they shied away in confusion from her sudden appearance.