Wapun Meadow but you see, it's not me, it's not my family

Even as the other approached, Zombie did not stir—her silent prayer continued, begging the earth to take her and life to flee. Whatever secrets death held, and no matter how the hunger had grown to be such a comforting and constant companion... it had to be better than the life she had experienced thus far. It was the crushing loneliness of her young existence that threatened to destroy her; for wolves were not meant to live alone, and that was all Zombie had been. Alone. Abandoned. Even in her sorry state, the worn femur she carried like a trophy lay beneath a protective paw—after all, it was her only friend. If Zombie were to ever lose it... well, she never consciously thought about that possibility, for the yearling couldn't fathom a life without it. As far as she was concerned, it was as much a part of her as her own tail.

"Get up," a voice said. Zombie did not flinch, did not move. Perhaps the stranger would believe her dead and move on, though the yearling knew her breaths betrayed the life still within her. The voice continued, and the grey-and-rust female gave a sharp and heavy exhale. She considered the words for a moment, and said simply, "Gone." Her tone did not express it, the passion in the other's voice did stir something within Zombie's chest.