She is hungry again. A murmur of crows circling an old carcass in the distance draws her over a scentline and into a walled valley where the rocks tower for many lengths above her. The trail she follows is stale but not unused, and as she draws closer she understands why.
The remains of an elderly bison have been picked clean. Her tongue flicks to wet her nose, ears swivelling wildly as if to confirm her lonesome before she surges forward to snap a rib from the felled beast, dragging her prize to a concealment of bushes. With a frenzy known only to the starving, she begins to crush the sun-bleached surface of the bone and lap the rich marrow beneath.
The remains of an elderly bison have been picked clean. Her tongue flicks to wet her nose, ears swivelling wildly as if to confirm her lonesome before she surges forward to snap a rib from the felled beast, dragging her prize to a concealment of bushes. With a frenzy known only to the starving, she begins to crush the sun-bleached surface of the bone and lap the rich marrow beneath.
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huwas - by Steltella - March 17, 2025, 04:50 AM