Hoshor Plains we're all growing up

He had been here before, he was sure of it, back when the flatland flourished with a mingled scent and song. Perhaps not on this very plain, but close to it, close enough that he paused a moment to linger on the memory of bygone days.

Now, these scents were gone and reclaimed by sweet grass and wild wind. A hint of game crested on the breeze, thick and numerous: bison roamed the expanse, great heads down and thin tails swaying. They dotted the landscape as naturally as wildflowers, though not as pretty, and no where as pleasant to smell.

There was another who watched them, and she seemed alone, preoccupied by the herd or something else that must have caught her eye across the plains. Simeon cleared his throat, and remarked with a hum, Y'know, from back here, those bison look as small as sitting ducks. He leaned in with a squint to the herd, I'll be ducks are still meaner, though.