Hushed Willows reaching up to the maze of light in the sky

---

the serenity, the lightness, seemed at odds with the grief snared tightly around her chest. the huntress pushed through the fronds reverently, their leaves dragging across her pelt lightly, as once a lovers touch might have. prey scent saturated the place; already she found herself walking a gametrail. mind having been set to a single purpose, she found it difficult to stray from her ritual of hunting far outside the territory long after the sun had slipped behind the horizon. routine gave her meaning, and meaning was all that stood between her and a dark, angry void she did not want to slip into. 

when her next breath pulled in to subtle hint of wolf-scent, foreign and female, she paused. it was with hardly any thought that she shifted her own trail so that theirs might intercept, offering only a low chuff that warned of her intent to the stranger, glimpsed now through the verdant fronds.