Fairspell Meadow look alive, sunshine

She was weak and the heavy feeling in her chest seemed to egg on the weakness. How far had she come from the Grove? What would they think had become of her? Coyotes had been the culprit at first, a hunting excursion gone wrong. She had already been too far to call for help and the sharp canines had been quick to usher her from their hunting scene.

The dainty woman had become rugged and a touch tattered.

Tired — woozy — she found herself stumbling onto a scene that felt familiar to the coyotes. This was a softer scene though, flowers and a figure more wolfish than coyote. Her mouth parted to call for help or announce her arrival but she found herself heading towards the earth. Exhaustion pulling her to the ground as her own head landed next to the skull, her eyes fluttering shut as she breathed raggedly unable to say what was on her mind.

Something deep within murmured danger.