Never Here nor There

Inevitably, the gruel of the fruitless wandering came to a sudden pause as the collected scent of many crossed her nose. Rather...it was not the scent of life, but a reserve of scents once had upon the lands, then in an instant taken as though by some force beyond the whims of nature. There lingered the tinge of blood, proof the sensation was not imagined. Coupled with the stench of decay and excretion and bile, a chill roused the fine hairs along her back in wary.

What was this place that catered to carnage then left only a memory in the form of an engraving scent? Some sacrificial place? Gingerly the wandered allows her muzzle to grace the summer soil, then quickly let it rise feeling the prickle of bother nip at her nape. Whatever this ground stood to represent, she was not keen to learn of it.

On heavy paws she turned swiftly from whence she came. The weight of deprivation holding down her steps made for a crawl of an escape but a progressive one none the less. Perhaps there was something better found toward grounds that did not carry a savage air.



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