Blackfeather Woods the story of a ship

timeline's a bit weird, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ @Atshen

The storm had struck hard and quick. It had been preceded by many days of tumult and activity; the entire world had seemed abuzz with preparations for the oncoming maelstrom and, on more than one occasion, her and West had stopped to witness the massive fins of the ocean life slicing through the shallows water in a bewildered agitation — yet, unlike the world around them, neither West nor Kitsch had the foresight to head further inland to avoid the worst of the squall.

But once the rains hit Kitsch, once again, proved to be a useless things in the face of such a massive, ancestral force. Like the snows of winter, the rain upon the coast fell heavy and blanketed everything — but instead of concern for freezing and frostbite, the small girl found herself avoiding areas where the saturated earth had flooded and loosened. The girl lost her footing many times, but most of her focus direct was towards the action of seeing through rain, driving hard into her eyes and blurring her vision, to ensure that her guardian did not leave her side — despite this, it did it take Kitsch long to lose West. Kitsch would never be able to say how it happened or why, but one moment the woman was there, and the next moment she wasn’t.  

It was the strangest thing; how often this happened to Kitsch.

Kitsch had attempted to stay in one place, to more easily be found after the rains had subsided, but the girl’s waifish and weak frame had been whipped around and spun by the force of the gales and was spat out down south, deposited in the very same lands where’s Kitsch’s story began. Expulsed from the worst of the storm, the girl allowed herself several hours of crying and moping, grieving at her misfortunes and the happiness that was almost hers.  Her head throbbed and fur was sodden and the girl wished for nothing more than she wished for the poppy, the fleeting happiness that West kept under tight lock and key — but it soon became clear that neither relief nor poppy would be hers if she stayed here, so Kitsch gathered herself and moved south to that lands that knew nothing of the storm that raged on the coast.

It was many days and the girl had begun to hunger; much of her energy had been used to push forth and cover great distances [for her, at least], leaving very little to attempt hunting. PKitsch knew it would be a futile effort and so she did noteven try, so she picked at carcasses left by predators more skills than she and gagged at the putrid taste left by the sun. Her body was so slight in it’s healthy state that any hunger left her looking wasted and bony; and Kitsch watched disconsolately as her collarbones and hips began to appear sunken after even just a few days. Alarmed at this [and not wishing to revisit the famines of the winter], Kitsch scented out the nearest pack’s borders and threw up a howl to the canopy of the darkened forest, not giving much thought to the action. It was as she did at Teaghlaigh and Neverwinter Forest; a request for harborage more than it was a request for family, driven by necessity rather than want of it. That was the way it had to be, and how sad that reality was! Abruptly Kitsch cut off her call and placed her haunches upon the earth with a humpf.

It was then that she noticed the bodies.