The Floodlands But I don’t get out much these days

She silently observed as her three comrades took down the moose, making it appear fairly effortless. Wildfire couldn't help but admire Niamh in particular—at least, her eyes usually followed the towheaded Tradesman—but if asked why, she wouldn't be able to provide any specific reason. In any case, the whole endeavor didn't take long. They called for her and she stepped forward, debating whether she would actually eat or welcome them to go first. Her stomach was still troubling her.

When she approached the kill, the sight of the swarming ticks affected her more than she might have anticipated. She recoiled and, though she tried to slap her mouth shut, nothing could stop the fount of vomit that filled her throat. Wildfire spun away from her companions as she retched. It was over in a moment, leaving her with a slightly more settled stomach and a sour taste in her mouth.

"I'm sorry," the Sovereign said, shooting everyone an apologetic glance. "You guys eat. I'm just going to step over here and rest," Wildfire added, avoiding looking at the infested corpse as she sought a patch of shade beneath a nearby tree and dropped unceremoniously to the dirt.