Deepwood Weald you will never be satisfied

@Drogon

The Wield offers her a glimpse into what could have been had she not been born again unto Themiscrya. She feels a queer sense of familiarity amongst the skeletal birch and pine that stand painfully straight and narrow. It is a place frequented by the fae and their sprightly Court; of the seasonal spirits, and the old, ancient spirits, that were mortal once—perhaps.

She is not ignorant of the tales and history of the folk, nor is she adverse to the idea of beings devoted to the places her Mothers cannot touch. For here, deep within the misty woodland, the Sea cannot reach. Though the Moon (in her benevolence and generosity) does share her light with the lesser mythos of the world so that they, too, might understand the blessings brought unto them by the Mothers. 

It is these thoughts that keep her company as she wanders the reaches in search of truths. Could the Wield give her insight that the Mothers had so far failed to offer? She wasn't certain. Her hazel eyes darted left as the silence was disturbed by a grouse who suddenly took wing as the bedraggled she-wolf wandered too close to the nest. She bared her teeth but didn't utter a sound—there was no point in chastizing the dimwitted fowl.

She changed course abruptly and headed off towards a shallow depression in the hopes of finding fresh water to slake her thirst.