Wapun Meadow all time low

exhaustion is an easy thing to slip into; the slowing of breath, of heart, of life. it is easy, slipping away, until it's not.

the wolfdog groans, curling in on herself in the manner of a spider, when something prods a shoulder. her body is too tired to feel nausea, to whine, to tremble, and so she only groans, squeezing her eyes shut and drawing breath. it's too much, all of it, more than she'd ever think she needed to endure.