Blackfeather Woods Blueberry cigarillos

The wolfdog nears, drawing the former slave's fiery eyes to her approach. 

The Storm-bringer watched her prowl closer, thinking of their previous and brief encounter. Istoira had been quick to dismiss her presence in favor of Maegi's, put off by the silent girl's defensive displays. A tinge of regret makes itself known now, in retrospect. Since finding herself an inhabitant of the Woods, Istoira had recognized the ties that held its dwellers together. It was not an obvious bond - not mushy or open like a family - but it was deep, old. It was more than loyalty, it was something akin to devotion - though whether they were devoted to the trees themselves, the leadership tier, or each other was something the black bitch had yet to unravel. 

"Hello again," Istoira greeted in return, shifting to allow Jakoul room to sit before the altar as well - if she so wished.