Sky Mesa searching for sunset

maybe someone from muat-riya / akashingo, the tribe, or bearclaw?

the valley of gold was home now. whether it was out of necessity or intention, she didn't know. her mother's condition was not getting better. dahlia needed some time alone.

it was easy to slip away now. dusty was busy with their mother more often than not, and although she was closer now more than ever with fox and petal, she still felt like she was on an island all by herself.

she remembered when they were traveling all the time. she had wished that things would slow down, that time would grind to a halt — how bitter it tasted, to finally get what she desired.

moonlight kept her cool as she moved out of the valley, and her feet kept her moving even as her mind wandered elsewhere.

why, hello.

the preacherman stepped out the shadows.

he'd tucked himself in an alcove, less than a cavern, drop in temperatures no mercy to a loner. underfed, manged, god-forgotten.

unless this young female here were a gift from above.

moonlight provided vision, so he was sure to keep his shoulder, whence the infection had spread, in the black. keep himself away, too. didn't want her thinking him too forthcoming, nor her to catch a whiff of his blight.

out 'n' about at the witchin' hour? his grin caught moon rays.

the stench of him permeated the air, but the direction of the wind kept the young girl from knowing; only his spiked silhouette and the low rasp of his voice revealed to her.

the only thing that brought her hesitation was not any part of who he was, only that he was a stranger in the night.

hello, sir. she returned, perfect and ladylike, maybe too much so for her age. i could not sleep. what brings you here so late?