Fox's Glade she's wearing rags and leathers from salvation army counters

the firebrand was slow to stir, but in those eyes indra saw an old watchfulness slowly come to the surface; as if the conscious mind had been submerged and slowly filtered upwards.

she set back on her heels and inspected the stone walls alongside fire. ardent, grim walls; walls that protected them from the world, and yet, were capable of being their prison as well.

"bearclaw -- or, was. we -- those that live here -- are leaving." there was a hidden invitation in the clinical tone of the beta - either fire came along of her own volition, or indra would leave her there: there was nothing left in bearclaw worth protecting, and her energies were better spent marching ahead than looking behind.