Blacktail Deer Plateau a sign of the cross at the door, & i pray. ...that never used to happen before

All welcome

Once, she might’ve seen this plateau through the eyes of a would-be settler.

Never again. Now it was the realm in which she’d  (rather literally)  cast her desecrator from in his own finality. In a moment of murky musing brought about by her recent hunt, the silver wondered if his blood and bones  had yet seeped, dusted back into the bowels of the earth from whichever hells had forsaken him. Or... had he somehow survived the fall? Had he...

​Aurëwen didn’t let herself muse any further, then.
She remained at the precipice, though — tail crescented high above bony, narrow hips; long, long legs pressing into loam and lichens in a manner that suggested readiness. And she felt as if she were back in that moment, too; with the evening light crowding down on her then, the same as it did now.
Looking to see if she’d anchored her demon away, back into its depths from whence it came.

Oh, she could make a concoction, a poison, an unassuming sleeping-spell, but... no. No, Aure was not a killer; not in the way the few kru she still loved had been, could be.
And so it was that the herbalist remained anchored there, too, and wished so terribly that for once she could take one’s breath from them.

Egg cooed to her from the leaning pine, concerned, awonder ...but his possessor only gave an absent, faint feather of her brandished tail.