Dragoncrest Cliffs Filled with Catastrophe

Many were gone. And here was Fabienne. With each passing day she grew more feral in her solitary. She chattered to herself in creole, in french. She ignored any gatherings of large groups. And she hunted. She was not  well built anymore. She held the frame of a child growing too fast with little nourishment. Oh her auntie cousin tried, but she was also nursing her own. 

So Fabienne hunted on her own. She did what she could. Today she dove again and again. Throwing herself into the mercy of the waves for the fish that littered the front edges of the coast. She buried them nearby in the sand. Far enough way from the sea, so she did not take them back. Yet close enough that Fabienne could chase any birds away.