Wild Berry Meadow If you keep on believing..

the shouting of a small voice had roused the beast from her latest sleep, which itself was hard to come by given her condition. she roamed from the lakeside in pursuit of it; perhaps drawn by her growing hunger, perhaps by a malevolent kind of maternal instinct that identified the crying child as a threat to her own.

the voice continued, and helped zharille to pinpoint a general area of where they might be sequestered. she lunged through the greenery until she came to a small field, and stood there catching her breath. a low note carried in her throat — a little bit menacing, a little bit inviting — but still, the ogre could not see who or what had been calling.

she paced for a few minutes, stopping to sniff at some ferns.