Dawnlark Plains darkest hour

Raider didn’t make the trip home overnight. She slept through the next morning, tossing and turning as fever dreams plagued her. When she finally lurched awake, a hideous thirst burned her throat. There was no water near at hand, though she knew of a few pools on the plains. She staggered away from the moraine in search of one.

Every few steps, her scar prickled. She ignored it, until she couldn’t. Planting her paws in the grass, Raider swayed a little as she turned to nip at the irritation. No matter how much she nibbled and licked—her tongue as dry as scraping sandpaper—the gnarled flesh remained itching and inflamed.

Grunting in irritation, she licked her chapped lips and looked forward, desperately scanning the ground for water. She saw swift movement but ignored it momentarily, until she realized that someone was moving at speed toward Redtail Rise.

Forgetting momentarily that it wasn’t her home to defend and protect, she lunged after the fleet-footed figure. Raider bum-rushed her without warning, snarling savagely as she sank her teeth into the would-be interloper’s thigh, just as had been done to her some three months prior.