The Heartwood all the perfumes of arabia will not sweeten this little hand

@Tzila :)

deep in the heartwood does a bloody white hair dangle from the yearlings' mouth, still radiating warmth in death. little remains once she is done filling her stomach -- a few days worth of hunt-inhibiting injury deprived her momentarily of fufilling meals. nevertheless, her health was restoring and energy returning, and thus she ventured on. briefly, she is reminded to urias and wonders if he had managed to locate his sister. or had not, as she hadn't. perhaps both their journeys would not bear the desired result and their paths would converge once more. more often than not she did not enjoy the extended company of others, yet his had been almost enjoyable.

pushing aside the thought, the girl picked apart the small bones from the corpse, studying each as though she had never seen it before. anatomy was a curious thing, and a subject scylla was now prompted to learn more about.

Like a ghost flitting in and out of reality, Tzila weaved her way through the wilderness. She had no set destination in mind. She simply went where her paws took her, to sources of potential interest or benefit. She continued to put her clashing emotions on the back burner, feeling it best to live in the here and now, as she always had. The sound of crunching up ahead, of teeth against bone, made her ears stiffen. Still but a dark shadow amongst the long dead foliage and sparse bushes, she located the midnight wolf easily, picking over the remains of a hare.

Expressing little interest in such meager leftovers, Tzila resumed her slow walk, ears tilted to signal her awareness of the others presence. She was not here actively seeking to engage with another, but she wouldn't entirely adjust her path because of a single wolf. She made to move on, but not before offering the other a single flash of a silver eye in silent acknowledgement.