Dahozhoni Meadow he was living on borrowed time

the cloudy morning was a welcomed reprieve from the unrelenting sun of the past few days, made ever worse by the sand.

towhee jr was beginning to think she wasn't overly fond of sand.

it was just, in these unfamiliar lands further from moonspear than she'd meant to roam, but driven ever forward by bullheadedness, refuses to turn back.

at least, not yet.

the meadow was a sight for eyes, aching and tired. though she does not know the word for mirage, she only hopes that it wasn't a trick of her eyes or imagination. it smelled real enough, and the grasses felt real enough, a cool, soft kiss from the grit of sand.

she makes a beeline for the first source of water she finds, bowing her head to drink from it in small laps, glimpsing over each shoulder after ever lap of water. she isn't keen on having her back exposed ... especially when she couldn't hear if she was alone or not.

but with little choice, she does her best to remain alert as she sates her thirst.