Herbalists' Cache so maybe i’m divine, maybe i’m celestial

and for my own reference as i am apt to forget, this is before this.

At the height of the day, he had opted to lay low in what sparse shade there was to be found. It was far from perfect in the ruined territory, but Mordecai was not entirely keen on being choosy. It had been his body that had demanded the break, his feet no longer inclined to carry on and drum the drying earth. He felt a prickle of anger over it but found that he was far too weary to do anything about it. He had already pushed himself too much for the day to make a difference now.

He had sprawled out, entirely prone and seeming too thin in the spotted shadows and listened to the world around him. A world that lately had seemed devoid of much; he barely heard the calls of birds in what would have been lush canopies this time of year, and the bleat of game was long absent. There may have been a breeze somewhere up in those higher climes, but even their whisper was lost on him as he dipped in and out of a doze.

Instead what he did hear was the beat of his heart, far from steady. Its was a thrum uneven and anxious, as though it too had been pushed to some edge and now precariously inched along it. The strain of hunger was no doubt the culprit, though one could have easily wagered that he was driven by thirst as well. It was the height of summer, after all, and the temperatures seemed to have no interest in letting the roaming beasts of the earth have a break until the sun had set.