Fairspell Meadow Faceless

they camped that night in a meadow where the brush was tall and the trees still held the verdant glaze of slow-dying summer. good sight lines here, and the crisp brush underfoot betrayed every little passing. 

qiao shot up from her makeshift bed, rheumy eyes pinning in sharp focus towards the source. 

a starveling. many times she’d come across things like her, the nameless thousand as they starved in the woods.  urchins with wide, stark eyes and thin sides, everything from fat to hope stolen from them by the constant and ceaseless advancement of kingdoms. 

don’t think you can come sniffing around here for handouts, the crone hissed as she rose, motioning her off with a snap of her teeth. unless you got something useful, beat it.