Wapun Meadow dripping in rot

400 for you all

Winslet was healing. This allowed the rogue to continue his regular patrols, and boy was he fucking glad that he had.
Upon their doorstep in the meadow was an entire entourage. Wolves upon the many— he had tracked Zephyra's scent here. She was too damn young to be scouting these parts by herself, and by the bloodied looks of these trespassers, they knew how to plant a mean blow.
He rounded near Zephyra, her guardian shadow. He knew well now that she didn't need him as a shield, but he was there, a silent sentinel all the same. A woman loomed near the man who bled voraciously— two on the flank, watching, waiting to see if he'd keel over. The perpetrators.
Fuck is the meanin' of this? He called to all of them. His voice stretched, catching in the tough winds.
Alongside Zephyra, he had no intent on helping.