Wapun Meadow i wish to remain nameless

two in their meadow. one sitting, one off to the side. the former doe-eyed and earthy, the latter made of domestic shapes and maddening blue eyes.

astara watched them warily from cover. measured their interactions, studied their posture — they appeared to be strangers to one another, which made her confident in her approach.

breaking from the shadowed brush that had concealed her, astara placed down the bloodied throat of a deer she held in her jaws. her gaze shifted back and forth between the duo, unapologetically — all conversations about stiffbirds and distant star-fireflies were disregarded. the real question was, what were they doing here?