Redsand Canyon death by a thousand cuts

*rubs hands together* kek

wanheda wakes up to the warm, red sands of the canyon without recollection.

of how she got there, of why she was in pain ...of anything other than the title ...or was it a name? and the rasping crow of a commander of the past in her head. but she cannot recall her own name or the name of anyone else.

wanheda, wanheda, wanheda.

to try to locate where all the aches were took more energy than she currently possessed and thus she licks her chops; tongue feeling heavy and coated in gritty sand. the shade offers some respite from the harsh sunshine despite that the morning was not yet warm. slowly, with legs that felt weaker than she'd have liked, wanheda pushes herself onto trembling paws and eases her way out into the sunshine in search of water.