Kintla Flatlands it will come back

—in the vicinity of whitefish river, late afternoon

hunger had made her bold, and she'd left the plateau they'd claimed as a sanctuary, for now. it is hard to imagine that any one place could exist where they could claim totally safety, rather, it seems that the world around them crumbles away a little bit more every day. ash has been settling in the skies all day, and the dying sun glows strangely through the haze, a vivid red glow permeating over the bog she slips through now. 

trees lay toppled, fresh earth and stone from recent landslides creating small islands among the destruction. the water oozes up all around, and when she pauses to drink, recoils quickly—something is very wrong with the water here. the bitterness of it remains with her as she moves on, the total stillness of the territory unnerving.