Blackfeather Woods I'm not scared to be seen, I make no apologies

The woods were silent then. Though some found it unsettling, she found it calming. She had grown up in silence and shadows, the shine of the moon and stars having found her pelt to settle in something just as dark as the void. A raven softly cooed and in turn, her ward spoke.

It were words she wished to hear. Her expression softened, silent appreciation clear as the day outside of their shielding foliage. She knew it to be wrong, but she stepped closer, quietly placing her muzzle to his shoulder and her scarred and speckled chest against his own if she were not to be met with his teeth. She sniffed in the scent of death and decay the woods were known for, a settling smell that calmed her beyond words. For a moment, The Night felt peaceful, pressed against her ward whom she felt was her only comfort.