Bonesplinter Ravine waiting by the mailbox, by the train

the girl wallowed, her dark form draped across the cairn's long-deceased residents with a listlessness. she did not glance up as cinder pressed her, having neither the energy nor the will to entertain a stranger. could she not be left alone to her own devices, to process the death of her mother in peace? a mounting sense of frustration stirred in her heart, trickling outwards through her pulsing blood in leaps and bounds.

yet, still her company persisted -- his kind nature pouring forth by the way he spoke to her, the way he tried to no avail to rouse her spirits. she shook her head -- just once -- to the series of questions that pressed from his muzzle, and then her indigo eyes fell shut in desolation.