Big Salmon Lake and if onlys, alongside could've beens

tags for reference.

though typically lake rodney — besides broken antler fen, of course — is praimfaya's usual haunt she decides to stretch her legs further. another month older, she thinks. another month older and now an orphan. the fresh grief of ingram's death couples with the rehashed grief of blodreina's — for praimfaya had never actually coped, instead she just buried all that pain and anger into building roangeda — and she fixates on hunting the rusalkan crone. it was unlikely the woman was to blame for her father's murder but even so there was already several bones to pick with her and her pack.

despite that, after informing @Dacio and @Aleks she was stepping out for a bit, praimfaya is not hunting the crone presently. rather, she seeks to keep a close eye on the going-on's of the wilderness. though the worlida is still a leader-in-training beneath dacio's tutelage she knows she has to remain one step ahead. she is young and because of that not always taken as seriously as she'd like to be. it was unfortunate, but not something she can necessarily blame others.

still, there is no evidence of large prey. the herds that don't migrate still appear to avoid the wilds like the plague and the frosty chill that has settled in the air doesn't bode well. ahead, praimfaya can see the banks of big salmon lake and averts her course in the hopes of stopping to get a quick drink. it is as she nears, the scent of fresh blood penetrating her revere and the vision of living snow tearing into her meal. though she wishes otherwise, praimfaya's stomach rumbles to spite her.

she missed the deer and there was a part of her that thinks she would be gluttonous when the winter herds returned. she would ensure that roankru were not hungry again.

to the snow woman in the distance, praimfaya lets out a low, cautious chuff of greeting and strives to draw no nearer in the uncertainty of how possessive of her kill the stranger would be.

nanowrimo: 349