Forlorn
It had been a dream. The happiness was quickly sucked from her mind as she was ripped to the realm of the wakened. Her chest heaved rapidly as her eyes darted around in panic. Her brow soon furrowed as she realized it had been a dream. Why? Were happy thoughts only a possibility in such times?
Yet she was grateful it was not another nightmare. Even whilst awake, she could see those beady, violent red eyes peering through a rush’kah at her. Those eyes that danced with malice as she bled onto that cold cave’s stones. The ones that twinkled with sadistic delight as she screamed and prayed for Shirvallah to have mercy on her soul and let her body wilt under the pain.
The scar was still very much so there. As scars do, it would forever remain. Yet the memory was even more prominent. More permanent. She rubbed at her right arm as she lazed off of the rock she’d been laying on. No better spot whilst in the city, right? She lazed towards the Valley of Honor, taking up a satchel from beside the rock. She had a carving knife and some blocks of wood within. Ignoring the male beneath the tree with two tusklings in hand -- likely not even seeing them -- she sat and began to carve.