Ravensblood Forest deserve's got nothing to do with it

for @Wraen

set before this in personal timeline

From the outside, the forest had seemed like any other.  Sure, the trees were bigger and taller here, but a forest is a forest is a forest and Thorin had seen numerous forests in his life.  Besides, he was curious about these tall red trees.  It was cozy within, the heavy canopy shielded the littered floor from much of the recent dusting of snow, but it was dark, too.  He figured it was from the mountains on either side, but it was a little off-putting.

Even more off-putting was when he got close to one of the trees to see frozen red — was that sap? — hardened across the side.  It was so red that it looked like blood.  The fur upon his withers rose and his nose wrinkled.  Nope, this had been a mistake, and he needed to get out of here pronto.

The forest right next to Horizon ridge, where Wraen had settled down with her sister for the time being, held an aura of mystery. A creature like her, who was drawn to any place that promised adventure and lore, it was no wonder in her morning round of "shopping for food" she included this place in the route as well. 

It was a forest like any other, were it not for the two mountains that stood on either edge of this place, giving one a feeling that they were walking through massive gates, guarded by stone giants. And after a while she noticed the reddish sap that had collected on some of the tree-trunks, giving an impression that these inhabitants had witnessed or taken part in a battle and had it in vivid memory. 

She was drawn from her imaginative mood, when she caught sound and smell of someone nearby. And soon this auditory and olfactory image was completed by the appearance of the person itself. A tall wolf, clad in silver hues. "Good morning," Wraen greeted him from afar and drew nearer at a leisurely pace, curious to find out, who this stranger was, but at the same time ready to flee, if he was not so keen of her interest in him.

Just as his bristled hackles began to smooth themselves, a clear Good morning, rings through the air.  It feels foriegn, too good for such a creepy place that he turns quickly, expecting to see something much more frightening than what he gets.  Oh, hey there, he says, clearing his throat, Mornin' to you, too.  He measures an exhale and watches as the plume in front of him shrouds her from his view completely and then, as it dissipates, makes her appear semi-transparent, like a ghost.  That's more like it, that's what he expected to see.  What're you doin' in a place like this?

"Ghost-hunting," Wraen replied with a crooked grin and a mischievous look in her eyes. She had been near enough to see that she had startled guy and this had made her immediately wonder, why had it been so. Had she surprised him? Was there something else to be afraid of? Or had he done the same wandering in the imagination land as she had done earlier? And she had woken him up rudely?

Whatever the reason had been, she was not afraid and there she had a bit of an advantage over him. Unless he turned out to be a jerk and strike out. Therefore she decided to continue with a friendly banter - either he picked up the joke or concluded that she was crazy - in both instances she would be a winner still. "For a moment there I thought you were one of them. You know - the classy pale, white looks and all. Plus," she cast a glance around the area, "this does seem just like a place ghosts would love to roam around, don't you think?"

It was a relief to know that her line of thought had been so close to his even if she was teasing him about it.  He felt less dumb, and now that he wasn't alone he felt much less scared.  He let out a short chortle and rolled his shoulders.  Sure does, miss, he rejoins, turning his gaze to the trees.  What, with all these trees with sap as dark and red as blood.  He didn't believe in omens or anything, but... well, let's just say he'd prefer to get on out of here as soon as he could.  Not that I've ever seen any myself, he tacks on belatedly.

"Good for us then - not having seen them," Wraen replied, moving to the trees and taking a closer look at the reddish, sticky stuff that to most people beheld "pine tree freshness", but to her was a very strong smell that offended her nostrils and blocked out all the rest of the scents. 

"Yucky stuff though," she turned away and told the guy, licking her lips and sneezing twice to clear the olfactory pathways. "Were it not for these evergreens being sacred trees that all evil fear, I would be very convinced that this is ectoplasm that signifies seriously pissed off ghosts," she went on.

"But I am very rude - never introduced myself. Wraen The Ghosthunter," she said, canting her head to the side and giving him a once-over, measuring look. "Who do I have pleasure to talk to? A brother of my trade, perhaps?"

He wasn't surprised that the sap didn't taste any good, though he would never have dared to touch it himself.  He was pretty fearless when it came to real threats — heights and predators and storms.  But ghosts?  Nope.  He didn't quite believe in them anyway, but... anything that was abnormal was slated in his mind as something he should definitely not mess with.

Speaking of which, she was totally messing with him.  Wraen the ghost-hunter?  He raises a brow as an easy, lazy smile drawls across his lips.  Why's it good that you haven't seen any if you're a ghost hunter?  Seems like it'd be the other way 'round.  He teases playfully.  Happens that you have.  I'm not an expert like you by any means, though.

The guy had caught up with the game and was playing along - Wraen decided that she liked him until he would prove otherwise. "Well, I am still a human and I much rather listen to stories about ghosts than meet them in the real life. As I said earlier - they can be really nasty and cause harm, if they are strong enough," she explained.

"There are burnt remains of once lush packlands on the other side of the mountain range. The legend goes that the gods punished the inhabitants for their pride - sent hellfire to the forest - it burned and the wolves with them. But their fate was worse than death. Their spirits remained trapped inbetween the two worlds and they still roam the place. Once a year - on the day, when their home was burned, they relive the same fate over again, you can hear them screaming, you can smell fire burning the wood and flesh," she told a story that was not exactly untrue, except the location was different. 

"But you did not tell me, who you are and what do you do for living?" she returned to her earlier inquiry.

He didn't know what a human was and he sure didn't know anything about ghosts.  Thorin had never been any good at tall tales or fables, and he wasn't sure how well he could play along.  That tale she'd told was terrible, and despite his reluctance to believe in stories... well, shit.  Thorin, scout-master extraordinnaire.  He says as he rounds his shoulders.  Don't know nothin' about ghosts, but maybe if you let me know a bit about where they hide, I can help you find 'em.

"Lovely to meet you, Scout Master," Wraen dipped muzzle politely, admitting Thorin as her equal. Except his trade was not as far-fetched as hers. 

"That's all there is to know about them. Besides I find living people more compelling than the dead ones," and as she said this, she glanced quickly over her shoulder, as if she had seen something. Maybe a ghost or maybe it was just an act. Wraen never told this.

"How did you come here?" she asked. 

After some small talk they went their separate ways.