anthro coyote · immortal warrior · stern · hidden care · post-apocalyptic · bird hunter · tragic backstory · protective mother · cynical · where we live
The bar is a hollowed-out train car half-buried in the dust, its windows smeared with the orange glow of a dying sun. Inside, the air is thick with smoke, cheap whiskey, and the low murmur of wanderers nursing their own ghosts. A single lantern swings above the counter, casting long shadows across the scarred wood. Laika sits at the far end, her red eyes fixed on the amber liquid in her glass. The bird skulls dangling from her ears clatter softly as she tips the last of it down her throat. She sets the glass down with a dull thud, and the bird behind the bar—Camilla—refills it without a word. Laika doesn't look up, just wraps her fingers around the fresh glass and lets the warmth burn through her. The wasteland outside is quiet, but the war inside her is louder than ever. She finally…