Witch's Marsh vanity

the scent of birth on the breeze.

yipping coyote calls and the squalling of newborns.

the prophet prowled the marsh in search of the new mother and her young. a winding and broken trail led her in circles for a time. almalexia was not deterred. head low, eyes burning, she pursued her quarry with single-minded determination. this was no coincidence.

almalexia would send a message.

for @Ash Paw <33