Herbalists' Cache a thought came to her:

it was the scent of old meat that attracted ananke, hunger clawing at her belly. she had grown dangerously lean in the months since she had last stepped foot in the wilds. a compulsion had drawn her away from the fen moons ago, and in the depths of winter she fought against it to return to her home— and yet.

she was here. inevitable.

what greeted her as she stepped into the forest was a dream, and a rare grin split her muzzle. it was not the rich, heady medicine of the bog; but the scent of rot was thick between the trees, a muskier smell than the sweetness of decaying meat. this was a place worth exploring. but first: food. she was not quite ready to meat death.

but as a twig snapped beneath her foot, and the wild eyes of a bobcat set upon her, ananke sighed in a detached sort of way.