Barrow Fields Watch the flames climb high into the night

wounded women seemed a common commodity. she’d wandered from the island after her encounter with the broken yearling, crossed the land bridge, and made her way toward the mainland where she saw another battered wolfess.

here, it was unlikely that anyone spoke their language, so ying defaulted to common for her hesitant greeting. hello, she said, quiet and inaudible, then followed with a proper, hello there. 

regret immediately set in. speaking had become tiresome, draining, and now she’d wasted her few moments of solitude by catching someone else’s attention. oh, well.