Wild Berry Meadow the burn marks on my epiano wont go away

inkalore's body was shimmering. qiao felt a numbness in her tongue, a sudden thirst down in her burning throat in which even drinking a river dry would not quench. 

think, think, think. concentrate!

she closed her eyes and inkalore's figure was doused in shadows. wavering still, somewhere unseen.

when she opened her eyes again there inkalore was, eyes trained to the skull's teeth. they were worn to the roots, yellowed and still clinging with the plaque that came as a badge of honor with old age. qiao's head swam.

you eat, you chew, no wolf's teeth ever regrew. she leaned in, paw snaking towards the skull.

should inkalore let her  (in truth, qiao cared not for any possessiveness or burden of etiquette), qiao would place her paw upon the thing;

no sooner did the rough edges of her hand make contact with the skull did a roaring of crashing waves open up the sky. her vision swam from wobbly adolescent to shimmering dark edges and then black. qiao heard the lap of waves and somewhere distant, a trickle of running water. the scent of damp loam and tepid water.

salt.

gradually a shape appeared.

not a shape, but a face blurred by something.  ash?

no. clouds? no.

scars?

the sensation of being pulled downwards as if in a current suddenly seized her. the last second before qiao came to, a pair of hawkish yellow eyes swung menacingly in her vision.

she blinked as inaklore's slight figure took shape in front of her. with a gasp, qiao removed her paw.