Bearclaw Valley seal the clouds with grey lining

indra's jaw tightened as she listened to laurel promise her -- it'll be alright -- i'll make it alright. but indra was so tired of only alright, so run down and ragged; they had carved a bleak existence here in the valley, and the constant threat of confrontation had finally exacted its toll on the russet redleaf. she wanted out - for her safety, for laurel's -- for the squealing babes that did not deserve this sorry future.

she lifted her muzzle tentatively, detecting the kill and a strange floral scent. lavender. her gaze slid back to laurel and she got up stiffly. "i don't know. dropped off something, looks like a deer." stiff-legged and suspicious, indra stepped over to the slain beast. it was wrong of her, but her first assumption was that this meat could somehow be poisoned -- hadn't she once offered an olive branch laced with sickly plumes?

she sniffed the carcass warily, but found nothing in it that suggested foul play. with a grunt she clapsed the cervine's neck and dragged it back to the den.