Luneshale Pass emotional torture

can be skipped unless tagged <3

a silent spectator to the assemble of furred wretches, she watched, she listened, she absorbed. learned of the way they moved, of the way they spoke. 

perched atop a stray cacti she stood as a sentinel, keeper of the lowlands, heart of the desert. though she may be small of stature, her spirit could reach the heavens. 

her focus was set upon the one who held midnight as a pelt, his presence one that commanded authority. she thought him the head of this invasion, and so it was he that would capture her scrutiny.