Qeya River dracarys

Bat groggily picked her way to the river, her foot sore where the obsidian had cut into the leathery pad. When she reached the bank, she ducked down for a drink, then splashed water over her face, where salt crusted her fur. The water was shockingly cold. As it dripped off her nose and whiskers, the news of her mother's death washed over once more and she began to cry again, the tracks hot against the chill damp of the Qeya.

Eventually, the tears slowed. She sniffled and splashed her face again, then finally her thoughts turned to @Tristan. Whatever the outcome of yesterday's conversation, she wanted to bring him something to eat. If only she could coax her leaden limbs to begin moving.