Kintla Flatlands it will come back

bloated, unrecognizable, it carries the distinct tinge of carrion-scent. despite it all, she carefully grasps one end of the thing and tugs. it slips out from where it'd been caught beneath a mat of vegetation lapping against the edge of the solid land, and she flings it smoothly onto the dry earth beside her. delicately, she stretches it out,  struggling to determine whether or not it might be edible. it is only when it suddenly, clearly takes on the appearance of a canid's leg that she takes a hasty step back, staring again to make sure. there is a patch of fur, a distinctly dark and certainly not belonging to any prey she knows. her thoughts fly immediately to Scarab, and suddenly ill, she backpedals rapidly. 

spinning, intending to fly back the way she's come, she's instead faced with a stranger, startlingly close. drawing up, caught between a rock and a hard place (or more specifically, someone's leg and a stranger) she stills, blinking. "who are you?" comes her soft and careful question, while some detached part of her mind tells her this must be the owner of the leg, come back to claim it. despite herself, she quickly ensures he's still in possession of all four limbs, regret at her straying already becoming tangible.