Dawnlark Plains please don't dress in black when you're at his wake

silatuyok circled slow, like moon over still water—watchful, careful.
the dark woman was tense. wild. like something that had never been tamed. silatuyok understood that. she was once the same. still was, sometimes.
when the bile settled, when the shiver passed, she stepped closer—but not too close. enough that her scent, earthy and cold as moss rock, might ease the air.
she hummed low in her throat. a note from some old place, not quite a song, not quite silence.
come, she said gently, the word thick with her accent, but kind. she motioned with her nose toward the north bend of the trees. find herb.
then, softer still, she added with a twitch of her ears, “...help. her tone said what her words could not: i do not mean harm.