Otatso Wetlands get up from there

By that point, Lonesome had fallen into a doze, a whistly little snore leaving her nose every time she breathed. It took a lot, doing what she’d done, but she would accept all the accolades for it.

She came awake with a jolt when a piece of swamp grass was sucked into her nose on one of her breaths, rearing her head up with a snort like a mustang, before she settled, blue eyes falling to the corpse.

You not dead yet, are you? She asked aloud, fully expecting to get absolutely nothing in response.