Meadowlark Prairie No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold

She wanted to seize him, to find her teeth sinking into his scruff. But her mouth was too dry for seizure and her limbs to unsteady for advancement. She slumped to the ground, propped up sloppily by two rocking front limbs. The Stormthorn swayed back and forth slowly as if influenced by a gently hidden breeze. She tried to focus on him, but there were two. And then six. Her eyes felt tired, so tired. She would not be dissuaded from the opinion he had poisoned her. With a snarl she lunged forward at him, teeth snapping as she aimed for his scruff. But it was not him she grabbed, but one of his apparitions -- and she nearly fell over as her teeth snapped nothing but air. She crumbled to the ground, her hackles flaring and her slavering mouth working in deafening, threatening snarls.