With the steadfast approach of shorter days and cooler nights at hand, Mojave found herself back in the midst of Relic Lore without actually realizing it. Then again, her little summertime adventure had taken her elsewhere, more than likely drawing nothing more than a big circle around the entirety of the region. She'd bailed on Deacon without mention and he probably hated her for it, but there had been little time for her to articulate or even begin to figure out just how to admit that she hadn't quite been ready to commit to somewhere. And so, she had balked at it and fled when he had been willing to wait around for her.
Nevertheless, that looming disappointment that she cast on herself was inclination to stay away from the place altogether. Instead she had relied on her own wits to get her by and forged yet another path to somewhere else. There she had relied on the company of strangers and of their kindness, though in time she rather able to wear out her welcome on more than one occasion. And by the time she had come back to the vistas of Relic Lore so unknowingly, she had resorted to scavenging where small game eluded her and large game were too much to handle.
So threadbare and worn, miserable and thin, she scarcely paid mind of the monolithic sequoias overhead. They obscured the sun on such a hazy day, lending to the coolness she felt in the breeze. Though her fatigue was evident, Mojave pushed ahead until she reached the fringes of what she could only guess was a pack. One that had been around for a while, no doubt, given by the scent markers that were strong. They did not waiver as she found the edges of the riverbank, and it was there that she was overcome by thirst.