Qeya River let the mob come, pitchforked and petrified

The smoky tipped wraith had set off at the crack of dawn just as the morning sun rose into the sky. Her nose was glued low to the ground as she began tracking the faint trail of a hare, pangs of hunger only pushing her on. She had not had a proper meal since leaving her brother and the inexperienced girl was beginning to regret her choices. Yet the young beauty knew it did no good to dwell on the past. And so she set forth with a clear mind, one not tainted with false hope and lies. 

By the time she reached the watering hole the girl had lost track of the hare and her hunger had only intensified. With a soft sigh the pale female slipped her front paws into the cool water and took a sip to soothe her irritated throat. It was then, out of the corner of her eye that she noticed the blurry silhouette of another. Kynareth tipped her head up ever so slightly in an attempt to catch the scent of the stranger, however she had no luck. Curious, the pale girl strolled towards the dark furred female, sea green orbs intently locked on the stranger's large frame.