Hoshor Plains Confined in mountain halls,

assuming this is a day after this thread? throws fin here late like; hope that's cool!

There’d been no sun to rise with, not with this rain, but it hadn’t stopped Finley. Orlaith forged ahead with a soldier’s blank determination; despite every damned resistance, instinct howling at her not to be so hasty again, Finley followed. But hunger had gotten the better of her and she’d veered off for a time, a quick hunt to prove… something. To someone. Definitely not a test of independence for herself.

No sooner had she tracked down a rodent—hell if she could discern scent between the torrential rainfall—the sky exploded. In a white flash her target was gone; screams ripped across from the plain. Orlaith? They’d hardly talked long enough for Finley to recognize her voice alone, never mind the second.

By the time Finley turned to the source, both Orlaith and another, they’d hit the ground.

Her hunt utterly forgotten, Finley charged for the fallen, as if she had any trace of help to offer—the mindless trance of a devotee who’d watched agape as her guide crashed and burned. Had she been there a moment sooner—her hair stood on end, the air electric with tension and residual spark.

She stayed by the stricken wolves, circling like a rabid vulture who targeted anyone but the fallen—had anyone else noticed? If they had, could they help? Burned fur and flesh made a horrid stench. If these two had been struck dead by a wrathful god.... Maybe now Finley would believe in omens.