Wapun Meadow et peccatum meum contra me est semper

caches of ursus had run dry or rotten. prey returned to the wolfless valley, not intimidated by the little beardog, but still the hunt was not her calling.

she looked for leftovers, things felled by better hunters. the search led her out the confines of bearclaw and to the lip of a nearby meadow.

she reeked of milk and newborns, stale air and dirt. her head was kept low as she walked along the edges of the meadow, looking for nature's gifts.