Dawnlark Plains the pit and the pendulum

setting - afternoon, sun breaking slightly through the clouds, warm

she's traveled from herd to herd, observing each of them carefully—their numbers, their weak links, their habits—and so absorbed that she has ended up on the other side of the mountains. 

not that she's much aware; she'd gone around the range instead of over it, like last time, and while she sees the dark peaks (they'd been especially visible on the beach) she's not sure whether or not they're those mountains.

now Avicus stands upon a large, empty plain, surveying a small herd just upwind. they graze in a small depression, tails and ears twitching at errant mosquitoes and flies. she breathes deep, taking in their scent.

she is hungry. her deer hunts had been unsuccessful, so she's had to settle for mice and squirrels.

not to mention, it's strange, now, eating with her ragged tongue. she's used to it being in a certain place, moving a certain way; it almost feels paralyzed, and she's struggled a time or two to swallow food. that, too, has made her ravenous, and there's a hungry set to her face, her eyes deep and sunken.

a russet skeleton's head upon a skeleton's angular body.

alive as she feels, she doesn't look it.