Broken Antler Fen and, oh, that heart

hunt dice roll
Conditions: mostly cloudy. 27°F.
Time: early morning

it was upon praimfaya's patrols of the borders that she initially came across the scent of foxes — pungent and unmistakable — leading into roangeda's claim. within the throes of the famine that now grips and leeches the life from the wilds like a parasite, praimfaya abandons her patrol for the sake of following the scent trail while it is still strong, if not a few hours old. life will be hell, evermore's words echo in her head. still, praimfaya is confident, roangeda will survive this. against all and every odd stacked against her, praimfaya, with the help of the kru she has welcomed into the fold has seen roangeda become reality from what had been an impossible mission. her. a child.

a commander is a commander, regardless of their age. linkoln's 'voice' in her mind briefly startles her. the claimed 'spirit' of the first wanheda was radio silent most days.

praimfaya pauses at one of the small streams that trickle thru the fen to lap at the cool, crisp water before she continues on the trail of the foxes. three, she thinks. there was a twinge of illness to their scents though whether it was from the famine or because they were old and pre-disposed to illness she couldn't glean from scent alone. nevertheless, she is patient in her stalking of them, waiting to see if any other roankru would join her on her hunt.

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