Meadowlark Prairie perfect, you're my poison

The war came to a standstill, halting for a moment as Nephele heard it.

Steps. Perhaps distant, perhaps farther away, perhaps near her with teeth ready to kill. Nephele was not ready to die, she’d never been. Blue ranged away from her paced path through the prairie, twisting to try and find the creature coming her way. They could be ships passing in the night, unaware of each other. In that case, Nephele would not intervene.

She tightened her jaw. Sabah would.

But Nephele did not equal Sabah, did she? Or should she? The monochrome woman swallowed down a lump in her throat, turning her head to her paws as she stood, rooted in place, until she found the creature coming her way.