Silvertip Mountain i have made the universe the way i wanted to

a welter of stones. a figure descended.
sorcha heard his voice and knew only it was not antigone. tears of hunger, of fear, of exhaustion broke and gathered into a sob she held in her throat.
"n-no." her time in brecheliant, in its love, had made sorcha no stranger to asking for what she needed. "i'm — please, do you have any food?" she asked, weakness straining her voice almost to nothing as she took another breath from thinned breast.