Dawnlark Plains your pages are full, your age is a lie

they drew near, Loir speculating on what might await them. the stench of fox hit her nostrils suddenly, but intermittently, the smell of sickness. putrid and thick, it had her nose wrinkle, gaze narrow. there was no smell of death, and so the ravens had not led them to carrion. 

she motioned that her companion halt, and breached the last few meters between herself and the clearing in which the fox lay, twisted in on itself. each time a raven fluttered near, it would twitch and snap. emancipated and reeking of a sickness that had her lip curl, she whispered her instructions to Loir quickly. "we need to chase it out of the plains. don't get bitten." she ought to have been specific in her instruction, or the instinct that told her this was no longer viable prey, but she merely surged towards the creature, snapping and sending it to its feet, where it wobbled, eyes glazed.