Blackfeather Woods passing by the hills, 'til i hear the name

astara waited for averna to make the first move, dissecting her mother's limbs in the same manner she had seen her consume prey a thousand times. only, this was not prey, was it?

but it wasn't her mother anymore either, right?

astara watched with great conflict in her gaze, feeling a trailing of disgust -- but bit by bit, the corpse resembled her mother less -- until at last relymna's body was drawn into quartered bits of wretched fur and blood, and little else.

she reminded herself that she was not doing this senselessly as she reluctantly fell upon a piece averna had offered; this was the spirits' will, and so, it must be done -- but astara brought no joy from her task, and woodenly she chewed what she could and arranged the rest far out of the reach of carrion-pickers, moving about in a senseless way, her eyes unseeing and her movement that of a shocked or insensate being, simply doing what came as habit and carrying no thought along with it.