Blackfeather Woods Her hands were all twisted, she was pointing at me

@Maegi @Ramsay @Titmouse , @Moonshadow (@Tundra you're welcome to join too gurl)

It was with trepidation that the onyx woman approaches - careful to pause several respectable feet from the heavily scented borders - though it is not onset by the darkness that seeps forth from the fog of the shaded tangle, gloomy even in the faint grey light of morning. It is her own unspoken fears of being found unacceptable to those within that break a light sweat over her flesh and lends a fast tick to the drum of her heart despite her outward appearance of collection.

The charred firewood bends, resting a neat bundle of herbs at her dark paws amongst the green. Borage, raspberry, and parsley - a gift for the soon-to-be mother that often lingers in the forefront of her thoughts. 

Perhaps coming to the defense of Moonshadow, the presentation of prey and herbs bestowed upon the object of her fancy was proof enough that she could contribute not only to the shadow but to those who ruled her home. 

Perhaps it was not, there was but one way to tell. 

Arranging herself humbly into submission, preparing for the eventuality that she would be met by a pack vigilante - Istoira's dark crown tipped back and a howl rang into the air requesting the presence of whomever lorded over the shadows and corvids. 

I'm having a hard time understanding what is going on in this post, but I'll do my best to get something suitable posted for you.

The ghost wanted to stop, to sleep, to at least close his eyes and not see the scattered bodies of the crows encircling him. To not taste their blood on his lips. To look in to the familiar darkness of the woodland and be comforted rather than filled with dread. Yet in the days since his nightmare trip Titmouse had remained in a state of terrified wakefulness that had wasted him away, mentally. He could not tell how long he had been watching the trees sway; how many stars had he counted each night? How many sunrises had he witnessed only to shirk away and hide within the Web? Too many.

So he lurked in the dark, feeling a weakness to his limbs which reminded him of his days of recuperation upon the northern island; but he could not think of Seelie nor of Undersea in the next few moments, his thoughts drifting away from him like everything else. He needed sleep and was too struck by his insomnia — so the decima would suffer. Titmouse didn't know which part of the forest he was visiting at the moment of the stranger's arrival, but he took notice of the shadow's movement and grimly turned his good eye upon them.

It was more like he stared through the swarthy wolf. It was hard to tell the shadows apart from the wolves lately, although this shape - when the light managed to penetrate the spidering branches - took on a muted mahogany-red glow; a warmth that reminded him vaguely of blood, and made him scowl.

Moonshadow heard a call at the borders and her curiosity was peaked as she made her way to them. To her surprise she saw the familiar wolves as she saw the female her tailed wagged excitedly. "Hey you made it! " She was happy but after looked a Mou and smiled waiting for him to speak or for others to arrive.

The first flicker of another - a pale form with the occasional flash of rust orange wings fanning from beneath long forelegs -  brings her hellfire gaze flickering upwards but it drops before it clashes with the wraith's remaining eye. 

Istoira remains silent for the moment - head bowed and gaze fixated upon the earth - as she silently ponders the displeasure etching across his features. 

It is Moonshadow's bouyant entrance that brings the hint of a smile to her features, vibrant gaze darting to the shadow briefly in spite of herself. 

"My lady," she greets softly, formal as ever but with an undercurrent of warmth. 

"My lord," she directs at the man half-hidden amongst the trees with a deep bow that bends her forelegs. 

"I have come seeking a place in your pack - granted you deem me an acceptable addition to your ranks." There's no sense in dallying, Istoira figures. Best to jump to the chase. 

Assuming that he would want to hear what skills she possessed, the firewood continued: "I can offer another set of fangs in the event of conflict and to pad your food stores. While unrecognized in these lands, I was a healer in others."

My lady, the woman speaks, My lord, using antiquated terms that did not suit the wolves of the wood; it irked him more that the stranger spoke to the darkness before they spoke to him; it was only moment later that Titmouse became aware of a second shape — the plump silhouette of Moonshadow, one of Maegi's allies - and his scowl deepened.

The stranger continued to speak, and the ghost continued to leer, pacing when his body began to droop in one direction or another, eager to hit the dirt and let sleep come to overwhelm him; but he listened. Mou latched on to the woman's voice as it drawled qualifications and skills, none of which bringing any change to the ghost's dull, sleepy expression.

None of it mattered. They were not a pack of warriors, nor did they have any intention of bringing conflict to the valley. Maegi's own decree was to keep a low profile — something he was struggling with, and the very thought of his beloved made him tense and drag in a deep breath to steady his nerves. As for healers - the man glances at Moonshadow and her increased density. Before long she'd be denning herself somewhere in the woods and all the pack could offer her was the skill of the Nona.

Moons-sah-da, he murmured to the pregnant woman, unable to stop the decimation of his voice as he tried to pronounce her name. This is fren? Can convirm? Trust? It would all depend on what the woman had to say; regardless of how skilled this stranger may be, Mou could think of nowhere else to station her in the coming days, if she should be permitted to stay. Moonshadow would need someone to tend to her more regularly - especially if the two ghosts had been successful in their own tryst, for the nona would eventually be in need as well.

She spoke respectively and she walked closer to the two. The male seemed to be listening intently. After she had finished speaking he looked at her. Yes she is. I do trust her, especially after yesterday. Yesterday I encountered Nikan - one of the wolves that kidnapped Maegi and I - at Otter Creek. This woman came to my aid and scared him, as did another; Tundra, I believe her name was. After she finished, Moonshadow waited for the next to speak

If it were any other situation permeated with a lesser gravity, Istoira might have wondered what cause the male had for his short attitude. As it was, the girl who had once been Keiedia sensed it had little to do with some perceived slight on her behalf and rather that Titmouse was disgruntled with the entirety of the world. She did not take it to heart, determining inwardly in the event of being accepted into the Woods pack that she would simply avoid the man for both their sakes - another encounter would likely prove painstakingly awkward and strained.

Fiery optics flitted to Moonshadow with curiosity; the former slave tried and failed to hide a slightly shy smile as the woman confirmed their friendship. Her dark crown tipped downwards, loathe to display emotions of any sort before the disapproving figurehead. 

The woman remained silent - Titmouse having directed his question to his packmate and not she - and waited for the pale man's verdict.

That was proof enough that the newcomer could fight, although there would be little need if Maegi had her way. The forest was a place of peace now, and the wolves that lived within its depths would uphold the ideas of the nona or be cast aside. Once Moonshadow had spoken her piece and given the confirmation, Mou was ready to leave the pair of them. He was agitated and they could both pick up on that; his impatience and surly demeanour would only lead to further strain between himself and the two women, and he was eager to avoid it. So with one last pensive glance at Istoira he nodded his sharp snout — acceptance. Yes, she could stay. The ghost would not linger for much longer, and began to drift back through the reaching trees, perhaps to find some place to collapse and sleep — but more likely, he would continue to roam the woods and suffer.