Bearclaw Valley mesmeric revelation

she stares at him. he's dark in the dim light, his yellow eyes like twin lanterns in the gloaming. her gaze follows their movement, slowly, sluggishly. 

she misses the open air. the den is hot and fetid, the stuff of nightmares. to stand, though, is impossible; to run, even more so. she can barely lift her head.

hungry, Avicus remarks, and it's not a question this time but a hollow statement of fact. her stomach gurgles—more, more! but everything she eats comes right back up.

pathetic. she is pathetic. she looks at Ashlar, then noses at her wound—it's been poulticed but underneath the herbal smell is the odor of decay.

bear, she mutters, teeth gleaming as her lips curl back.