Noctisardor Bypass tagbleinken

i... i don't know, mom.
they were starving. they were helpless. rivenwood was bleak and wrought with shattered souls, and dinah was tired.
her face had become sunken in with tired, puffy eyes; she dragged around a needle drawn figure that should be filling out with adult muscle. her voice lacked intonation.
on her shoulders she carried two heads. she, and the world around her, seemed to forget that she was still just a child.
h-how do we know that the packs around here will even like us? or if we'll like them? dinah's shoulders tremble as her gaze finds the distant, shell-shocked face of her mother. how much had she aged in the passing months? we could-- we could go back to those hearthwood people. or try and find gramma towhee, or something, or,
she could not continue her sentence. she began to fizzle out, her ears bending sidelong as her head sunk between her elbows.
i'm so tired.