Bearclaw Valley my sad soul forgot its pride

indra couldn't tell right away that her sense of time was mangled beyond recognition; she would often wake to the sound of something hitting the dirt - or the smell of meat would rouse her from her lonely stupor. sometimes there'd be a person waiting by the edge of the rift and they'd call down to her, but they never got too close.
she found herself desperate for company, and used her limited energy to pace where she was kept, like a caged zoo animal. it was the precise sound of claws against stone which brought her forth this time, drawn eagerly to the light, as she had internalized the regularity of her meals and now sought to steal glances of her latest visitor.