[SE] basic building blocks of baskets

Which means it’s time for all good nocturnal hunters to come back to their dens. Tired or not, the sun is something that cannot be successfully fought (though if anyone would try to do so, it would be Wessex, in all her hubris and stubborn strength). There are people who are grieving. People who cannot muster the mental or physical energy to hunt and feed there one-mouth-less family. So the Wraith is there, as likely to be good as she is to be ‘bad,’ leaving the occasional gift of meat on a doorstep at dawn. After all, as we know very well, she has no need of sustenance, herself, and an abundance of tireless energy - it now seems like hunting at night is almost too easy. Wessex exits the trees amidst the pollinators and the unfolding flowers, oblivious to their beauty and the wonder of their roles in the natural world. Three rabbits are slung over her shoulder and she carries her bow in her hand, quiver strung across her chest. The day dawns early - not for farmers, but for others - and she is surprised to see the strange Kai at the Oasis. Waving her hand in greeting, she takes a quick detour - only intending to stay for a couple of minutes or so. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm