Stone Circle ghosts don't stand a chance against the radio

When she wakes, she’s in the den alone. The cool air infiltrates the absence of Wardruna and she trembles, shifting a little. His scent isn’t very strong and she doesn’t know how long he’s been gone or if he even said anything to her when he left. Most of the time it does not bother her to left alone, mostly preferring it than his company where he tries to interact with her, but the chill of the morning threatens to seep deeper than bone. She tries to avoid him when she can but she is never given much peace and quiet. She doesn’t suspect it’ll be long before he’s back with something else for her to eat or another disappointing return from a hunt.

Her ribs are still visible and her waist is tucked high but she is not as gangly and emaciated as she had been a few weeks ago. The progress is slow for his hunting skills are often less than impressive and he is slimming down by pushing himself too far. If he would leave her be and let go of his efforts, he can fend properly for himself and the rest of Easthollow instead of wasting his time on a lost cause.

Slowly, she closes her eyes again but it is short-lived. The wind whistles outside the mouth of the den and she struggles with the urge to urinate. It forces her to untangle her thin legs and slip from the den. She travels the short distance in order to relieve herself but she has lost all warmth she’d been able to maintain. Her tremble escalates into a violent shiver and she turns to return underground but in the same moment, a few snowflakes fall from the sky and she glances up to the overcast day as they begin to drop a few at a time every so often.

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