Wapun Meadow and the wish that the world would spiral into the sun

careful was the redleaf's expression, as her eyes flit between the two. she remained alert, attentive - perhaps even slightly defensive of their presence. long ago she had learned the folly in trusting strangers. long ago had she learned her lesson, and never again committed idle trust in strangers.

the directness in which all of them spoke, was at least for the most part reassuring - indra hated guile more than anything, and despite her hardened wisdom (if it could even be called that), was masterfully foiled by euron's impenetrable guise. she looked between the two again; which was the speaker, the leader? which should she defer her entire attention to? neither looked any less, or more capable, than the other -- and indra suspected each had their own dark design that could work against her if they so willed it.

"i'm afraid of your intentions." she answered transparently, a trenched wrinkle appearing across her brow at the mention of absalom; a wolf indra had not dared think of again, lest her thoughts conjure him into waking memory -- in the past she had thought it possible that he was some faint geist of her own rampant imagination. her throat bobbed - she did not like to think of him.

"he didn't." it was apparent then, that absalom was neither contrived of her own imagination, nor a ghost - a pity then, for it meant he was very real, and could harm her. "are you a friend of his?" she cut them both an accusing look - if they kept company with such a wolf, she wanted even less to do with them.