Haunted Wood I don't want your crowd

she stills, and a moment later drops the bird to the ground. it's neck is craned backwards, unnaturally, and she answers the woman's statement only with, "broken." despite herself, a grin spreads across her muzzle, pride and a brief flash of joy surging through her veins. it's the first time she'd made a catch like that, and she hadn't had success since she'd last been hunting, with—

her joy flatlines, expression dropping just as fast. "where's the cache?" it feels like a hollow victory, without her mother or scylla around to see it. why had she left her sister alone? why had she run? it was wrong, terrible of her, and that stupid feeling tightened around her throat like a noose again. guilt