Shadewood you are at war, even in your dreams

And so, just as the moon had fallen and the sun had risen, the imp had returned. 

Djehanne crept through the foliage of the forest, taking careful note of the sounds she heard around her; birds overhead sang gluttonous songs of excess, ground squirrels scattered across ragged rock faces in a rain dance. The cuts and callouses on her paws had since healed and scarred over, leaving the pads of her feet numb to the trek she'd forged in an effort to find her way back into the Wilds. Her fur, once white and clear, was now dingy and thin, giving her a pitiful appearance. 

She looked like a crazy woman, and she wouldn't fight anyone on the accusation.

As she neared a river bank and bowed her head to drink, Djehanne caught sight of another wolf of much sturdier proportions. Her ears lowered and her eye focused, but she remained silent and still, waiting to be noticed.