Blackfeather Woods only this & nothing more

there are whispers, in the wood. footfalls that carve out new trails he finds when he wakes, scents new and half-familiar. the dark wood could not stay empty; it was the way of things and yet the whispers were just that. nothing may come of them, and yet something could, and thus the Raven's desire to stay here was solidified. he had wandered; seen great battles and whispered in the ears of warlords, reaped reward for him and his kin when the battlefields lay abandoned. 

but his soul was carved and shaped here, and here he would return. 

he sat now near an alter long abandoned, white fragments that might have been shattered bone stabbing through the snow at its base. he did not face it but kept his back to the stone, gaze settled somewhere in the midst of the trees. there, he waited.

He made sure to steer clear of Wolfskull, but didn't know why. There were rivaling memories of the pitted cavern and one might expect a little bit of confusion; Titmouse remembered being a prisoner there, remembered holding prisoners, remembered the escape - his own and later, Fire. Maybe the problem was that he held too many memories overall. Instead of delving through the woods and seeking out the abandoned cave the young man went another route - looking for signs of Relmyna, her shrines, any sign that the dark gods of the forest were lingering near.

At some point that morning it had begun to snow. There was a fine mist cascading across the tops of the trees and trying to settle between them, and he moved with it as he fought the overgrown paths; Titmouse was forced to reroute some of them as he went, until he was faced with a clearing with a dusting of perfect snow. Beyond it there was a path winding through the trees, and he chose to avoid breaking up the idyllic scene in favor of keeping to the darkness. When he finally did emerge, he took stock of the stone slab just beyond.

At first Titmouse did not see the dark shape of the living shadow. They were poised in front of the altar but did not move, and Titmouse did not immediately notice the canid shape for what it was; he was oblivious until he drew closer, at which point the ghost stopped in his tracks — perhaps he had found one of the abandoned gods after all?

the ghoul and his bird remained, a fact that astara ruminated over with some suspicion. many of blackfeather’s ilk had fled — or worse, died — so why had he remained?

the nightcub kept close, wary of any shade that walked through her home unbidden. it did not help he lurked by her mother’s altar, a habit that caused astara perpetual misgiving. 

one unwelcome stranger was frustrating enough, but to find two — the girl’s eyes flashed as she saw another move through the shadows, ready to encounter him with the same frosty treatment. 

but this was no stranger. her posture softened, but her eyes remained sharp. mou had left her and averna for dead, too .. so why was he here as well?

the atramentous girl was near; he felt her oddness somewhere out of his sight. he did not seek to pinpoint her position, not when another broke the shadows and crept steadily near. he did not shift, but glassy gaze moved to focus on the stranger. when he stopped, the Raven slid empty gaze over the boy that death seemed to so desperately want. still, he moved with a certain confidence that implied he too was no stranger to the wood. 

he stood and closed the distane between them with stiff grace, pausing only when a tail length seperated the two of them. he was content, for a moment, to stare. his gaze was a curious one; only a few shades lighter than his coat and with a glassy sheen that contained no spark of intelligence, thought nor life. his nares flared and drew in the boy's scent, unremarkable and foreign to him.

The shadow advanced; his gait seemingly lethargic until Titmouse realized how swiftly he moved, but he barely had time to tense before they were investigating him with a few sniffs. Tit did the same, doing his best not to take his eye off of the stranger. But he heard something - an approach - and turned his ears then his gaze towards the origin. It was then that the boy spotted one of the children of the forest, and his heart skipped a beat.

'Stara! He called out sharply, and withdrew from the eerie company of the nearby shadow. He trailed towards her, but stopped short because of the look in her eye. Came bag, 'Stara. M'gee n' me. Flick. Home. His voice was still a mess but he wasn't thinking about how the string of sounds would be interpreted, he just had to tell her -- they were all back now, and things would be ok.

the specter astara had come to know as a regular in blackfeather advanced, inspecting mou in a detached manner. the nightcub kept her distance, gaze doleful as she watched the ritual. 

it was then mou saw her; her ears slicked back and she withdrew, bitter still for all that had happened in the wake of mou’s departure.