Dragoncrest Cliffs live and die by the gun and the knife

dawn broke over the cliffs in broad strokes of molten orange. for the first time in a few days, sobeille felt up to the task of patrolling.

her wounds had scabbed over and the fever claiming her had abated; out of caution she’d slept in dogfish’s den while @Yura stood watch, fretfully sleeping as the last vestiges of fever fled her body.

she drank from the glimmerglass surface of glintwater, and then as the sun broke over the shale, moved out along the borders at a conservative pace.

already she felt her energy waning, but her attention was pulled towards a familiar scent. it took her several seconds to place it; the boy — sam — from the sound.

memory of her task flooded back to her; with cheeks flush in exhaustion, sobeille picked her way after his meandering tracks.