Bramblepoint these scars long have yearned for your tender caress

She’d set out the evening before when she noticed her stash had been low, spending the rest of the night when she’d got to the glen. Her sleep had been plenty and she woke up a little dizzy and disoriented, as much times, but her mind still yearns for the cause. She stretches out her legs and slowly picks herself up, ingesting a few of the seed pods around her and snagging a few from the ground for later to head back home. Traveling through the forest that separates the caldera and the glen is always her favorite. Even in the winter, with the promise of spring on her heels, it always has a sweet smell. The dormant bushes and trees filled with fruit leaves a linger scent through summer that no amount of snow will diminish.
 
The scent of another takes precedent and stops her in her tracks. Her jaws tighten around the stems she holds in her mouth, uncertain of the location. Her hazy mind keeps her from finding a pinpoint location of the other and she slows her stagger down to a snail’s pace. West closes her eyes to collect herself, turning a corner of the forest to find the sight of another up ahead. The stale scent of blood fills her nose above the aroma around her and she nearly stumbles forward on weak limbs, causing more of a ruckus than she’d cared for. Her ears droop down but she does not speak, hesitantly waiting in place.