Hushed Willows The day after the plague

Nova padded on at a slow, leisurely pace, taking in everything she could with spectral eyes. So much destruction from such little bugs? She was not surprised, but still. How far would this go on? She sighed, shaking her head.
             "Such a shame."
There were no more leaves on the trees, or shrubbery to hide behind. The grass was naught but roots buried beneath the surface, and the scent of prey was weak. The elder headed for the borders by habit, for it was what she would see as most different; it was where she spent most of her time.