King Elk Forest [insert relevant bible verse here]

Given her newfound liberty from the shackles of her name, one might surmise that Addison would run for the hills without a moment's notice. But she finds herself staying near Silver Creek, watching, waiting. What? For what? There is something that inexplicably ties her here, whether it is to her brothers—for shared blood is more powerful than simply a name—or the women of Rosings, for whom she feels responsible.

Whatever it is, Addison is well and truly stuck. But she is no longer trapped. And that makes all the difference.

The Odolf witch meanders through the trees, glacial gaze like twin bright flashlights in the darkness. She feels liberated to even be out this late, alone, with not an escort in sight. She has freed herself from the stifling grasp of testosterone at last, and it is. . .it is a breath of fresh air. To be alone as a woman, knowing herself, knowing her strength. She had not drawn true breath until the day she became simply Addison.

A rustling in the brush draws her attention, and her eyes snap toward it, ears cupping high atop her head. She draws herself into a low crouch, mouth filling with saliva in anticipation of the iron tang of blood. She is no great hunter, but she knows she must learn. She will never let herself become helpless again.

Being shunned away from a scene in which it had been her duty to moniter had quenched her spirit slightly, a lingering, unwanted vexation and remorse that hung in her gut - she knew Raziel simply desired to protect her and the young she carried, but she wasn't used to having her life tolled by another. She'd been a slave to herself, but nobody else. The empress had slipped from the borders with idyllic ease, well-adapted to the life of a hunter and how to pass through the treeline without a single pair of eyes following her figure.

Gwen wished only for a snatch of peace amongst the bustle. Bustle that she wasn't even allowed to step forth in because she was carrying the keep watcher's children - not that she would trade such a feat, but still. She felt so useless when she couldn't participate. It made her feel both a bubbling anger, and a crippling unease, amongst the occasional bursts of sickness continously flooding her system.

Plush ears of the sharpest ivory twitched upon her crown, muzzle tipping upward to soak in the appearance of another in the near distance; a coat of deep cocoa, a similar height to herself. The Eruna's steps halted amongst the dustings of snow and after a moment of hesitation, she gauged that this woman was hunting - as a tracker herself, she thought that perhaps she would watch, offer tips if they were so required. Or, on the other hand, maybe she could scrounge a few new tactics from this woman. She remained silent as a ghost.

It is a woman, and she is not the one Addison seeks. She is growing more tired by the day of waiting, of being empty. Her brother had promised her a mate; why hasn't she been assigned one? Nay, why hasn't she asked for one? She is disappointed in her own timidity, in Grayson's lack of initiative, of the world for putting her in this position.

No. . .this pale woman cannot help her. She does not have anything Addison is looking for.

Good day, the witch murmurs as she passes by, her glacial eyes raking over the plush form—she is probably pregnant; she has probably had the fortune that Addison has not. Envy takes root within her, a sapling tree, and she is quick to vanish before it grows into something larger, more violent. She disappears into the shadows.