Wapun Meadow dripping in rot

zephyra wasn't sure if letting the ragged man leave was a mercy or a punishment. perhaps the mercy would have been letting his hunters free him from his misery now. but she did not care either way, so long as each of them pissed off, which thankfully they did. 

one by one they slinked off after the other, prey and predator, who would win?

her nose crinkled with disgust as she leaned forward to take in their scents, memorizing each and every one before placing them in the mental filing cabinet marked: bastards.

once each of their unwelcome guests had proceeded to leave zephyra stomped a few paces forward, spun on her heels and began to kick up dirt where the dying man had bled, replacing his stench with that of the valley. once finished she aimed to march back home, with or without the company of the two bearclaw men. 

so much for a peaceful getaway.