Fairspell Meadow four letter word for the feeling you were born into

She watched with white-rimmed eyes as the form of Nona slipped away to do her bidding. Seconds ticked along like hours as her brain searched for a distraction from the sudden loneliness that held her. Her return was a bountiful one though. Food and a flower that seemed as though it had seen more flourishing seasons.

Her neck twisted as jaws clamped around the hare. Pitiful as it may have been, that did not deter the Morta. Prey was scare but she sought only to fulfill her own selfish desires. An empty belly that would not cease its rumbles until she appeased it. Torn apart with a ferocious speed that left her to be the occasional victim to coughing or soft choking.

Sunken silver eyes drifted over the form of Nightstar. More meat clenched between his teeth but still she was weary of his presence. A primal creature at her core, she would be wary of most in her injured state. Hackles raised as she defensively watched him but moved to grip at the flower that Nona had brought. Greedily the raven leader nosed at it in search of whatever it held that was promised to soothe her pains.