Dawnlark Plains darkest hour

The wretched thirst consumed her. She no longer noticed Redd, nor their proximity to the rise. Some stranger’s hot blood still sat on her teeth and tongue, yet all she could think about was water, water, water. Head bent, she combed the summer grass, her movements growing ever more erratic.

She moved closer to her sister, entirely unaware of her or the territory looming behind her, only to jerk back in the other direction entirely. And then she stopped, sniffing audibly for several seconds before a loud, desperate whine burst out of her mouth.

Raider began pawing at the earth, ripping out great clods of grass and dirt. A shallow quickly formed. She barked madly at the damp soil, clawing at it with a berserk desperation until finally, finally, water welled up from the loam.