Blackfeather Woods i like to be here when i can

Something was very wrong. There were scents along the border that she vaguely recognized—Flicker, and Damien, too. It should come as no surprise, given what Ramsay had told her, but she still felt affronted. She had trusted the woman—and now it seemed as if her trust had been misplaced.

Maegi covered as much ground as she possibly could, pissing on each and every corner. This wasn't her usual set of duties, but she was willing to do whatever it took to keep others out of here. She wasn't going to talk to her uncle, and she wasn't going to let anyone else in. Full stop.

A tiny voice at the back of her head was wondering why she treasured a dark bit of ground so much in the first place; Blue echoed her sentiments, hopping from branch to branch and watching her with skepticism. A larger part of her kept up the zeal.

Ever since she'd harbored in from the sand-ridden seas of her motherland, Jazira had marvelled at the humidity of the eastern part of this world; not much rain ever fell in her arid west. Any moisture from those ever-cloudless skies had evaporated before it could even kiss the ground. These memories followed her, flowed through her as she picked her way through the gloomy gloam of these hinters.

Aside from the moon, the radiant flowers of cacti gave some semblance of inner warmth to its frigid nights. Weekly, when no breathing prey was to be found, the fruit that flourished from those wilting flowers is what had helped to keep Jazira fed. Namely, the seeds that said fruit held; she remembered gobbling them up as a child, for they’d scorch in that heavy, blistering heat if left unconsumed.

But now that she was in this green world, tinged with spring... She simply had to get through these desolate, dark woods. Then she would be welcome to everything this land invited her to.

i would like 2 thank david attenborough for sponsoring this msg

The svelte brown shape ahead was not one of Damien's folk—to her knowledge—but it was not a face known to her, either. With a low growl, Maegi headed her way, trying to make herself look as intimidating as possible (which was a tall order, for a fairly small young woman). Still, she hoped the glint in her eyes made a good case.

Who are you? she demanded, lifting her chin. This is my home you're walking into. She blinked slowly, in feigned patience, standing and waiting expectantly for the woman's reply.

She’d been in the moment of reverie, gazing at the bleeding trunk of a pocked pine and wishing it had been the fruit of those succulents; wished that she could reach into her childhood and feel the dark mauvey stain on her pale chin; wished it would dribble down her throat and breast without a care in the world. It was worth it, and it was good, and filling, sticky-sweet even when the sun itself gobbled her up.

And then she was wrenched from her thoughts by a grumbly inquiry. Bright eyes went wide, the corner of her lips tweaking into a tight frown; brows bowed like saplings — basically, a genuine oh shit expression. Truth was, she’d thought she could skip on by the scent lines and just hustle her ass through as fast as wolfishly possible. Oof.

”I, er, I am only passing through.” Promise, her eyes said, and much like a reprimanded child, lowered her head with a bitey pout and scuffing one hind lamely behind the other. If the pale she-wolf’s appearance had startled her, then the cocoa didn’t let on. Actually, she was astoundingly oblivious to even the most obvious.

She raised pale brows at the answer, but otherwise gave a cool nod, not altogether satisfied but at least there was an explanation. Where are you headed? she asked. Maybe I can help you find your way.

Maegi, the girl introduced herself, with another dip of her muzzle. You are? She seemed quite different from many wolves around here, more. . .exotic. If that even was the right word. Maegi suddenly was very keen to know more about her, and wished she'd stay long enough for some stories.

At the nod, she was able to relax; easily found by the sigh of shoulders. It’d be good to live another day, to ”Find some place that is... green. I’ve only just arrived to this west some days ago.” Paused for a moment, bit at her lips, before, ”Or, to find a community to call my own, I suppose. Lone life has seemed to do me no good so far.”

With a soft shudder at the unpleasant stumble upon a bear — not that she’d ever seen, heard, or known of one in her life! — she trilled, accent sun-beaten and hazy, ”I am Jazira. And, ah, help with either would be deeply appreciated.”

Maegi gave the woman a look that was almost a smile, albeit a wry one. Well, this place is green—dark green, but green. And we've got a community, too, she remarked. She remembered Flicker's treachery, then, and it gave her pause. Should she so readily accept this stranger into the woods, after what had happened?

I can let you stay here, but you have to promise me something, Maegi said firmly. She halted a beat, trying to figure out how best to word what she wanted to say. It was tricky. . . I don't trust easily, and I'm really good at holding a grudge. I still remember the face of the woman who killed my uncle, and that was a long time ago. And yet, like it was yesterday.

You don't have to stay forever, but if you can promise me you won't turn against me or my wolves, you have a home for as long as you need it, she offered, standing tall as she could. Her bi-colored eyes were gimlet, fixed on Jazira's face. Can you promise me that?

Flustered at her clumsy grasp of the regular tongue, and listening to Maegi’s anecdote regardless of her own wide-eyed rapture, the word promise was lent up, and Jazira gave her own pause. Amber eyes fell from the pallid, wrought face and instead to the mossed earth at her her dark, tapered paws.

In the sands that’d birthed Jazira, it had been a time of when promises that once meant something now, at that time, meant nothing. Oaths — no, words — began to lose their meaning, and vows fell on deaf and foolhardy ears. But here, they meant something once more; and Maegi offered a home (not too far from her sands) and communion. The choice was easy to make: ”I promise. I will not turn against you.”

And then, feeling a bit ridiculous and unsure of herself, the desert child gave a hurried ”Thank you, Maegi,” and an awkward bob of her head. Which was really a stilted obeisance of her whole body but, whatever. She was grateful, smiled helplessly — ”If this is the case, then you may call me Jaz.”

Then it's settled, Maegi replied, letting the smile come, now. It still remained to be seen whether her word could really be trusted, but at least it was given. It meant a lot to just hear it. She would, however, remain wary of the woman for some time.

She tilted her head toward the interior of the woods, casting her gaze at Jazira—Jaz, now, she supposed. Do you want me to show you around? she asked. She almost gave the alternative option, for the woman to explore, herself, but she'd rather keep tabs on the newcomer during her first foray into the forest.

Should she say no, Maegi would still be watching—just more furtively.

She mirrored Maegi’s smile; the next inquiry wasn’t too troublesome for a decision, either. Surely her host would keep an eye on her — and though Jazira understood it was merely common sense, she remained thankful for it. She had never seen a wood so... dense, so much so that it could consume you in a moment.

Truthfully, though, the sand-born wouldn’t be resistant of these shadows; only losing her way. ”Yes, please,” She acquiesced, lips curving further in an almost-timid beam; tail sweeping at her springy hocks with gratitude.