Dawnlark Plains [m] it’s only $free.99!

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She couldn’t get enough of @Redd, which perhaps explained why she roved northwest today with a dead goose hanging from her jaw. Druid made it as far as the plains—eyes fixed on the mount that must be the rise—before she paused for a break. The bird was heavy, though it wasn’t just that. Even though it was stone cold dead and thus couldn’t emit its trademark honk, Druid swore she could still taste purple on it. It was making her a little bit sick to her stomach.

Druid took some deep breaths and licked her lips. She hadn’t felt nauseous since before the pups were born. The feeling reminded her of that horrible phase of her life and she stiffened suddenly, retching into the grass. It was a terrible cycle, the heaving making the whole problem worse, resulting in more heaving.

It took a while to break out of it, at which point, Druid was a little exhausted. She backed away from the goose, unwilling to touch it again. Yet she didn’t want it to go to waste, nor did she want to miss an opportunity to see her… Crush, Druid decided to call a duck a duck. She didn’t know how or why but she had it bad for the Wealda.

After a brief deliberation, Druid decided to raise her muzzle, her voice breaking through the late afternoon stillness of the plain. Would Redd hear her? Could she come? Would anyone else overhear and try to interfere? Druid supposed she didn’t mind that possibility, though she sucked in a breath as she found herself wondering if Redd’s mate might have returned in the meantime.