Fairspell Meadow look alive, sunshine

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@Nebula

Rusalka had simply been too chaotic for the girl; she’d left swiftly after the changes in leadership, dropping Stanley only briefly to howl a farewell to @Derg as she'd fled across the borders. He'll be fine without me, she'd told herself, he's strong. Unlike her.
She's far from the coast now — so far she doesn't think she'll ever see the golden sands or the crashing blue waves again. But that's okay with her; they only remind her of Derg. They remind her that she is alone, truly, for the second time in her life, this time by choice. She pauses in her trek, glancing skyward briefly before the glare of the mid-morning sun forces her gaze to lower again. She leans down, carefully nestling Stanley among a clump of flowers in preparation to try her luck at hunting. She's never been much good at it, but she's terribly hungry — and it can't be that difficult, right?

She was weak and the heavy feeling in her chest seemed to egg on the weakness. How far had she come from the Grove? What would they think had become of her? Coyotes had been the culprit at first, a hunting excursion gone wrong. She had already been too far to call for help and the sharp canines had been quick to usher her from their hunting scene.

The dainty woman had become rugged and a touch tattered.

Tired — woozy — she found herself stumbling onto a scene that felt familiar to the coyotes. This was a softer scene though, flowers and a figure more wolfish than coyote. Her mouth parted to call for help or announce her arrival but she found herself heading towards the earth. Exhaustion pulling her to the ground as her own head landed next to the skull, her eyes fluttering shut as she breathed raggedly unable to say what was on her mind.

Something deep within murmured danger.

The woman's approach does not go unnoticed, but at first, Keen isn't certain what to make of her. Pity stirs within her chest at the other's state, and immediately she considers offering what little help she can give — but then she opens her mouth, and finds the words will not come. Of course.
Anger flashes through her, heated and foreign. It seems so unfair to her that the presence of another turns her into a bumbling fool. The wolf's collapse startles her in the next moment, and a snarl tears itself from her throat, more instinct than malice. The stranger, already such a nuisance, is close — far, far too close to her only friend, her most prized possession. Get away from him! It comes out louder than she'd intended, panic tinting her voice slightly. She can't lose Stanley to the carelessness of this stranger, hurt or not. She can't be completely alone.

"Get away from him!"

Who?

Tired, hazy yellow eyes opened as she spotted the skull next to her own. It seemed surreal. Suddenly everything felt...distant. Nothing was real in that moment as she laid there. Helpless. Unguarded. Weak. He's not real. She breathed out the words. In an attempt to prove her own point her neck stretched as she aimed to brush across the skull with her nose.

He would not be there. No one would be there. Although she would be wrong by the coolness of the ivory that brushed against her nose.