Dawnlark Plains lvi. ‘cause all that remains

she could not hear the call for her heart pounded in her ears, louder than the stomp of many paws drumming on the stone terraces of her first home. it was wil who alerted her to the fact that another approached, the child turning and stiffening as she watched the horizon alertly. 

at first, lótë thought him to be another of the white shadows that occasionally flitted in her peripherals — feverish paranoia. but as the form drew closer, her digging forgotten as she squinted against the snow’s glare, and took shape, her peridots widened with clarity and shock. 

”kigi,” she murmured in familiarity when the tribesman was close enough, too sluggish with pain to croak out the entirety of his name. ”i’m very happy to see you,” she grinned despite the throb of her leg and the wisp of her words, honest and utterly relieved to see a recognizable face.