Sunspire Mountains bad girls do it well

posting from my phone in bed, sorry if this is weird!

The brook, with its many paths over stone and through soil, masked the sound of the beast's approach. Even if Zombie had heard him, it was difficult to determine if she would have felt afraid: it seemed so serene here, so protected. She could think her dark and melancholy thoughts without interruption, without the annoyance of pack mates asking exhausting and stupid questions. But as a voice, at the same time oily and stormy, cut loudly through the peaceful sounds of the streams, Zombie realized there would be no escape.

She lifted her head as if it weighed as much as a bison, a heavy sigh emerging as though it came from deep within her. In neutral lands, she was even less likely to be polite; less likely to pretend to be impressed or civil. "If I were to wait until I was free of monsters," she began in response, "I would never rest." Zombie turned to look at him, electric eyes shadowed as she considered him and his presence. She realized, then, that he could crush her with little effort on his behalf. For a fleeting instant, something like fear might have cluttered in her chest. But as was often the case, Zombie struggled to see the point of her own life: it never seemed to matter to anyone else, particularly not those she had bound herself to, and so why would it matter to her?