Wapun Meadow day after day, alone on a hill

@Sunny! she's finally down in rising sun valley, haha

The smell of sea salt on the coastline eventually got to her. She had been born and raised by the ocean, waves a constant murmur in the distance, seabirds squawking overhead. Salt had once been a comforting scent; now it was sickly cloying, a reminder of the carnage behind her.

Larksong Grotto had been too close to the sea. So she traveled further east, looking for landlocked refuge. Made her way down a silvery path, nestled near some small mountains. Picked her way through wetlands and marshes, cringing in disgust as her ebony paws soaked and sucked through the damp. Along the way, she thought of everything that had transpired. Wept for her broken family. Feasted on bits of carcass left behind from wolf feasts and vulture scraps.

Finally, Miyako came across a meadow--and what a meadow it was. Bright summer colors, just beginning to fade into autumn. Birds and insects fluttered about, feasting on the flowers. The scent of deer caught her nostrils, pungent and delicious. The meadow was ambrosia for the senses, redolent of pleasure.

With a sigh, she settled near some trees, her black fur camouflaged by the dark thicket. Exhaustion overcame her; she had been moving nearly constantly since leaving home. Her eyelids began to flutter, drooping over her amber orbs, her muzzle resting heavy on her paws. Of all the scents here. . .salt was nowhere to be found.