Blackfoot Forest sick cycle carousel

Zombie inspected the white female with a dark scowl, though it was more her natural expression than anything directed at the stranger in particular. Whoever it was—for she hadn't introduced herself in turn—seemed intent on finding a way to make up for the lost meal. Zombie only stared blankly, unsure of how to answer—except that she suddenly realized that the stranger was white, like the leader and inner circle that had abandoned them to their fates.

"Are—" she paused abruptly, unsure of how to proceed delicately. "Are you a shaman? Like, can you summon and talk to spirits and stuff?" Truthfully, Zombie wasn't sure if she believed in all that voodoo... but it inexplicably fascinated her. It seemed so unnatural, but at the same time the yearling had spent nearly her entire life dancing with death. Having some type of intimate control over it seemed appealing.