It was night; early morning, as a matter of fact, and Olive had been awake for many hours. Sleep had been attempted, but the attempt ultimately failed and after being she had been restless for a spell, the mother pulled herself from the forms of her small cubs and made leave of their den. A passing glance was thrust over her shoulder, and as she saw their chests puffing with rapid, sweet puppy breaths, the mother knew they would be fine alone for a few hours. They were no longer small babies, and Olive loved it as much as she loathed it. 

Across the mountain she went, finding a small promontory and settling her gamine haunches upon it. It had become her customary locus for her star watching, for her elevation was high upon the side of moonspear and she achieved an unobstructed, 360-degree view of the heavens. It was arduous trek, but made easier in the coolness of the night and very much so worth the journey.  On this night, however, it immediately became clear that there was a disturbance in the force. The stars stood still but their energy was erratic and the push-pull-push-pull of their tidal alignment signaled to an issue on the coast. The druid felt her heart quicken a beat. There was imbalance and Olive wasn’t there to fix it; and immediately the woman worried of Ravensblood Forest and the ghosts that walked amongst the bleeding timbers and the atramentous nursedog who’s body was sold in place of her own; would they be alright,  despite the unidentified foe that they battled? 

Softly Olive crooned these questions to the stars above, but soon the stars would recede into their bright obscurity of the daylight light and Olive would return to her daily duties of pup rearing and these types of thoughts would need to be swallowed. Thus were the responsibilities of a prophet masquerading as a mother — and though the sun had only begun to make its presence know in the east, the stars continued to twinkle brightly and allowed her more moments with them.