eye of the tiger - or newt, or whatever we can find

It seemed like everywhere they stepped was almost treading on another pack's territory. Gathering and hunting had become a battleground for resources - every pack seemed to comb the same tired territories over and over. Prey had become scarce and herbs were rare just like any other greenery in this blasted desert. Luce was grateful for Bourbon's stable presence - he was practically the only thing keeping her sane. The schism of the pack into Ashen and the Ashen Armada was more difficult to come to grips with than she'd ever imagined. Lucretia thrived on routine and the dramatic shake-up had her feeling strange and out of sorts. The only thing that had remained constant was Bourbon and his dogged commitment to her health and prosperity. It was charming, reliable, and... frustrating in its own right. Luce hated to admit that she needed a caretaker, but he had absolutely proven that she functioned much better with him by her side. Did that make her incapable on her own?

These maddening thoughts dueled in her head and turned her mood sour. They had set out today to bring back some kind of resources - game and herbs, anything useful - but she already felt hopeless. Maybe they would get lucky. Luce picked up the pace and headed towards the open grassy field that had once been rife with prey. There wasn't anything even visible to the naked eye at first glance, but she hoped there would be some smaller quarry thrashing around in the brush. "Where should we start?" Lucretia asked her companion, giving him a pleading glance. With her mind at war with itself, she needed him to take the lead. He was so good at it. 


wc 283
twc 283/2500