As the sun rose on Zephyra, she once more returned to her closet to avoid the sunlight before it came up to singe her. She barely ate again that night, as her appetite just wasn't very active. The warrior poured all of her efforts, energy, and time into her duty to put the dead to rest, that she ate for sustenance and not for enjoyment.
In fact, she hadn't even bothered to find anything bigger than a heron, because it would have just been a waste. The small bodies of the avian varieties she had pecked off had been left to a pile in the corner where she had left the dried remains of the small creatures she had completely drained of life and fluids.
Her eyes started to fall heavy, and just as she stared to feel that lovely, heavy lull of sleep as it pulled her inward - she was jolted awake as the door to her little 'tomb' was opened and flooded with a crimson shade of red that bathed the entire room briefly in a light that blinded her.
