Lion Head Mesa I keep catching little words but the meaning's thin

The silence of the field was eerie. Calm, serene, one could easily meditate in such a place as not even a bird stirred in the branches of the bare trees; but it also felt godforsaken, and freakish for the unnatural silence shook him in his core. The knight felt as if he was the only living thing around for miles, only the sound of his own heartbeat filling his ears could be heard. 

Just as he was losing himself in the silence, the sound of rustling grasses caught his senses, with the eventual chuff to announce their arrival as opposed to sneaking upon him. Ears flickered in the direction before he eyed the figure as she approached. Her leg twisted, face mangled as if she had come into contact with a rabid beaver. He sympathized with her for their half faces should they merge would return their beauties.

A reason for the happenings. A quick, simple answer. The location of prey. He continued. In his one eye, he offered a question, the desire to know should she know anything. A def yearning for an answer or something to ease this creeping feeling in the pit of his stomach that things would get worse before they got any better.