whatever it was that sent them to ravensblood forest wasn't any misplaced attachment to the place. they didn't even have any special attachment to home, beyond the fact that at least the court was competent. all for the best, since donovan would've been in quite a position if he'd tried to keep it. renard was still surprised he'd left instead of spending his time running his head into another. how willing would nemisis have been to run? she had been worse than he was.

it had been satisfying, watching her die. their only regret was that it wasn't them who'd taken her head from her shoulders – but there had been quite a line for the privilege. not smart to make that many enemies until you were ready to take them on, and still he continued. 

so maybe just for the fun of it, then. a tour of the place donovan had wanted to call home before he'd ruined it. objectively it was better than redsand canyon – objectively, donovan could have moved them a dozen better places than an empty desert.

renard might have ascribed some intelligent thought to the decision back then, but that was all misplaced. apparently they'd even been capable of optimism a couple of months ago.

there was nobody else who'd taken the place up in the saints' absence. a lot of old scent trails and then a fresher one. one they would have left alone if it wasn't quite so familiar. not the saints, but a way they couldn't quite place. 

nice to be back somewhere they had experience with. they moved much more comfortably and quietly through the trees than canyon sand, coming to a stop when they caught sight of her, busy examining the sap rolling down a tree trunk. that seemed to be a popular attraction here.

they thought of themselves as having a decent memory – couldn't afford not having one – but her appearance was no help. violet eyes gleaming in the shadow, they lifted their head and regarded her thoughtfully, scenting the air. 

a twitch of an ear is the only initial response she has to the sound of an approach of someone (or, something).  her gaze - quite obstinately - stays glued to the sap she's currently inspecting.  her mentor had often remarked how foolish and self-hazardous natshana was.  where a warrior of her pack may jump to a defensive position at the slightest rustle of leaves, the apothecary bears no such desire.  she knows fully well that if she is to be attacked, then she will die.  that is simply the way of life.  she knows minimal fighting skills and has all the physical strength of a mighty lamb.  if this is death come to claim her, the best she can hope for is to posture a provocative one-liner in somewhere before she goes.

"you are staring," she observes without turning her eyes or head toward whoever has arrived.  natshana assumes they're a wolf, but she's been wrong before.  it would seem, at least, that the local fauna in these lands interacts more readily with the lupine population.  so, perhaps she is wrong. "do you know what this is called?" the young wolf decides to ask her new-found companion the probing question on her mind.  for the first time, she turns her head to look at them.  they're a striking figure with eyes more purple than she has ever seen.  how lovely.

"i am wondering if it may be used for healing or hindering," natshana voices her thoughts aloud, quite conspicuously not elaborating on what hindering may mean (although, it isn't difficult to guess).