Sheepeater Cliff soronúmë

1st November. Paging @Dagwood but others welcome to help/harry!

With a call to her Court, the stricken had parted from the vale that had become their perhaps-claim; an invitation to lurk with her, too; hunger strident within marrow-hollow cages where innards wended.

Now, she watches the aerial maneuvers of those gilded eagles who yet remained upon these cliffs. Disheveled in feather as she has become in fur; limned so much so with dawn's late sun that she must veil her eyes and turn from them, though there were scarce any sheep who themselves remained ... save for the worn, sunken carcasses wealded into loam and lichens far, far below. No, there were none besides left.

None, save for those they had perished beneath; Andraste watches, and wonders if it is worth further flaying of her figure—
( maddened, she has been branded )
—and finds that if it is for her Court, she cannot care.