Deepwood Weald [m] iklignak

There came the voice of something high in the trees! Or maybe she was imagining things; maybe it was the tree itself who called out? Wilwarin had never heard a tree speak, but she had always wondered if they could. She presumed that, like herself, they had a lot to say but very few ways to say it. Maybe they spoke avidly and often, but because she was a wolf and not a tree, she would never understand? Still - someone called a greeting, and she saw and smelled no wolf among the spires.

As she tread closer, she looked up and saw a pale bird. Her focus was there, away and up, and she did not hear the chuff of the stranger man behind her; nor did she think to be wary of her surroundings, as Wilwarin was trusting in the world and had never thought to be nervous.

The bird was very high! Her mouth moved as if she were barking, hinging at the jaw, and her tail wagged - but no sound came from her, only the crush of snow underfoot and the whisking of the snow's surface by the force in which her tail swayed.