The Sentinels i send my scourge, i send my sword

THUS SAYS THE LORD

As the scourge came amidst them, Andromeda felt the first stirrings of true fear rise within her soul. There were screams, hollers of desperation and keening, begging noises made by faceless men and helpless children and she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing but to race back to her adopted pack to make sure they were alright, make sure they were safe from the storm, but there was nothing she could do.

Donnelaith, too, was ravaged.

Her only hope was to sprint as fast as she could to her meagre stores, places where herbs were plentiful; places discovered by accident to salvage what she could and then they were upon her, writhing about in a mad scramble for the precious, precious things in her mouth. The ground was bare, and she held the remnants of what she had once seen prosper. If they had so quickly devoured what were strong, healthy plants, then Ann's mind flashed to the memories of the child's tiny garden, her pride and joy at seeing her babies flourish and the obvious devastation she would see on her innocent features when she realised how merciless the plagues were.

Blinking away tears from stinging wings, the woman scrambled to her feet and made a dash for the howl that had only encroached upon her ears, a long, anxious call to gather for safety in numbers. Ann could not run faster than the swarm and it was in her haste to save anything she found that she tore up plants by the stems, sometimes without roots and sometimes flinging dirt and sod into her eyes but she kept running, kept going if only to have something to hold onto.

And she found her pack, having lost the cloud in their rush to devour what they could find, leaving the paltry things in her mouth alone even when exhausted, she dropped them onto the floor.