Lion Head Mesa lokma, manda

While the howls of her packmates rang out through the mesa, Serein was retching in the shadow of a stony overhang. Her own voice remained absent from their song. By the time she'd wiped her mouth dry with a foreleg and buried the mess she'd made, all she could feel was exhaustion. Perhaps a tinge of shame, too, but she didn't think too hard about it.

She disappeared into the shadows, seeking the solace of the hidden den she'd chosen for herself. The sickness would pass soon, she thought. She hoped.

Truth be told, she didn't really know.