Wapun Meadow dripping in rot

the meadow, though not as enforced as the valley itself, still held some claim by bearclaw. it was through that notion that zephyra took to roaming the sprawling fields with a newfound sense of confidence, tail flagged high in self-assurance. 

she might have claimed to be patrolling should she encounter any of her packmates lingering near, but in truth the meadow was simply an excuse to get away from the valley. she'd passed by some of the newly decorated defensive spikes on her way out, fresh coyote heads skewered atop them still pooling with blood. 

her stomach twisted, though she did not know if this was due to disgust or enticement. 

whatever the cause, it did not matter now. she cleared her head and continued to meander through the meadow, taking note of the bison that still grazed upon the land. she would have sat to watch them, study them, but the stench of something foul drew her attention elsewhere. 

hackles flared at the sight of a stranger, a man, if he could still be called that. then there was another, and in the distance two more. 

something new stirred in the pit of her then, something foreign. she didn't know why they were here, didn't care either. she just knew she wanted them gone.