Redtail Rise lines on ale

she whips around to face him, chest spattered in dirt, forelegs liberally covered. wha' happen here, healer? she asks. it smells different, like death. not the iron-tang blood-scent to which she's accustomed, but a deeper, earthier demise.

Avicus lifts her eyes to blackened trees, their branches covered in snow; all trees are now leafless, save for the conifers, but this is different. this isn't right.

a curse? an omen? there must be some natural explanation, and Ashlar is much more in tune with the gentler parts of nature than she is.