Barrow Fields lotus eater

She'd taken to haunting the field... well not haunting.  Rosalyn never haunted anything.  She frequented the place as a hunting ground, enjoying it's spoiles and taking a sort of sick pleasure in how close it was to the home of her once (and always) enemy, the grotto witch.

Today Rosalyn had a taste for deer, and for once, she'd found some to track.  If none were injured or had already perished, she could maybe head back to Ironsea and grab some backup, but for now she simply followed the scent.  Her head was down, and her nose wrinkled when she caught the scent of other wolves, likely on the same mission she currently followed, only a good measure ahead.  She knew that scent.  She just didn't recall where from.

Now cautious, she stalked them to where the kill had happened, thinking perhaps she could snag a bite or two.  When she saw it was two of them, the odds not in her favor, she cursed inwardly.  Maybe she needed to start thinking about bringing backup.  But perhaps they were finished, and could be persuaded to leave?  She took a few steps forward, stature growing to a more cocksure manner.  These were (kinda) her stomping grounds, after all.