Felltree Marsh fireton

it was not the whispers of a name that brought her to him.

she had roamed away from the watch after allowing herself to become gluttonous on the kill he had given her. when it had thinned to bones and less-wanted meat, she left it for the birds. then pushed onward knowing that he might find her trail to follow.

occasionally she looped back and it was in this that she came upon crimson trails.

his bloody trail.

she could not say what happened next. it felt as though she was carried by something that possessed her. the time thinned into a darkness and she only remembered coming to his sunken form. it was as if someone had attempted to devour him, the way his flesh opened to weep with blood. she imagined it only had not taken because he had given the same.

she believed this, in her soul.

yet she was no healer, no mender of flesh and bone. how could she fix this?

she reached with her muzzle, tongue seeking to clean the wounds. perhaps, perhaps they would not be as bad as it all looked to be.

she feared the worst.