Cedar Sweep .not_human

@Grace — sorry it's short! i'm still getting used to writing again omg <3

[table width=55%][tr][td]

hunger lingers as a longtime companion, sharp nails stabbing and stretching the skin from within; famine, sister to pestilence. malnutrition yet waits, this stirring still only a trivial matter, but charmaigne is not the type to wait for weakness to strike, not the type to bow to nature's course. most would resort to wolf-flesh only if no other were available, yet the de mercy found herself in something of the inverse situation — lowering herself to the wire of small game in absence of easy kin. beneath shadow of towering cedars prowls the ghoul, pale snout carving a path for over-long limbs to follow, creeping low to the ground as nostrils flare. though focus appears directed solely to the mission that is hunting, that is tracking down a meal in lands yet unknown, still aggravatingly unfamiliar, dark ears are aggressively alert. she can find no reason to trust these wilds, resorts instead to hyper-awareness, to a taut frame that s i n g s with tension. ( a strung bow, ready to snap ) 

[/tr][/td]
[/table]