they are south.a pause, sinew peeling.
blue eyes flicked once, briefly, toward natałtsa, then back to the carcass.
there is something in the wind.a grimace pulled at her lips. what, she could not name. she leaned back then, calloused paws lifted, and for a moment—just a moment—she tilted her head toward the sea’s groaning breath.
we should not linger.