Blacktail Deer Plateau I don't wanna hate you

She could scarcely speak—how she wished to unburden herself to him—when the protector within him surged forward, and Reyson stalked toward a gentle-looking figure not far from them. Meadow watched with a growing sense of dread as the woman curled in upon herself—and then remained unmoving.

Reyson’s words were no surprise to her as she closed the distance to where he stood—a trained eye upon the woman, circling to her backside. “Is she Raventhorpe?” Meadow hadn’t recalled seeing her—and honey eyes traced over the still body, wondering of this woman.

Dread settled itself like a pit in her stomach—knowing that one day, this was all their fate, if they were lucky to live to such an age.