Qeya River I met this dude at Coachella

With each swallowed mouthful, her senses came back online, one by one, so that when the stranger questioned her and Wildfire lifted her head, she looked back at him with sentience fully restored. Accordingly, her ears slowly drew backward and she dropped her gaze, feeling a whole range of emotions: guilt, shame, maybe even some remorse. But there was also the relief of having something solid in her belly and, moreover, adding some longevity to her life. Her days were still numbered—she couldn't unring that bell—but she had added at least a few more heartbeats and breaths, a little more sand to the dwindling hourglass...

"Brutal," the Delta muttered under her breath, rolling a shoulder guiltily, unable to bring herself to apologize to this perfect stranger. Or... was he a stranger? Her amber eyes suddenly squinted in recognition. He smelled of Drageda. And it took her a moment to place him but she suddenly realized he had been on the moraine, in the tag-team effort to wrestle the wounded moose calf from those grotto wolves. "You're from Sleeping Dragon?" she added, just to be sure.