Fairspell Meadow sangre

when silvertongue awoke, she was alone beneath a bowl of brilliant stars. her captors had gone, though not before her feline possessor sent her into the waking green dream, and she held to it now. in the direction she knew to be akashingo was where he had gone, but silvertongue had little choice but to trail his hours'-old trail beside the serpent. as soon as she could be parted from it, she veered into the rolling emerald of the meadow, looking over her shoulder, stumbling; if she could only reach the palace, reach what had once spelled safety — she collapsed insensate beneath the sun, her small frame crumpled as a stone in the far distance, heat pouring down over a frame already direly weakened.