Meadowlark Prairie the transit from a doomed universe

Sorry, Mom.

Lilitu was on the move again, and she wasn't going to stop until the sun went down. There was just too much to see and not enough to do (at least in her mind) at the fen.

And so she wandered, wandered, strolling out onto the open prairie with a pep in her step. Such was the dichotomy between herself and the bedraggled stranger that she didn't even notice him for a wolf; she assumed him part of the scenery instead. A fallen ruddy tree, or perhaps an old kill. 

So when she noticed he was moving, it was quite the shock.

Oh! she gasped, heart thudding hard in her chest. She came closer, albeit warily, staring at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. He was broken and bloodied. He looked like he belonged on that mountain with the rest of the bodies. 

Are you okay? Lilitu asked, though it was rhetorical—of course he wasn't okay. But she didn't know what else to say, and so she gawped at him instead.