Sheepeater Cliff I built a home and wait for someone to tear it down
January 12, 2018, 11:42 AM
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         She'd slipped from their borders that morning, heading south and sticking close to the mountain's edge. The ground was rocky, crested into hills and ridges; this, combined with the snow, made travel slow. But the wanderlust had not abated, and the wound in her side being mostly healed, she'd decided to take a quick trip, just for the day.

         The direction had been random; she'd simply struck out from the borders and moved south. It was only once she reached this place, of dead sheep, that she realized that the wood and the war lay further to the south. The femur of one of the unlucky corpses that littered this place cracked beneath her paw, old and prey to time. She paused as the sharp crack echoed of the cliff face, movement further up having her almost jump before realizing that it was merely a sheep.  Huffing, she paused among the odd sheep-graveyard, half-wondering if there would be anything fresh, here, and half wondering if she could continue to the south, which may or may not be a war zone.