Haunted Wood the dark between stars

attn. @Shikoba but all welcome! spiritualist thread iii.

though the morning had been clear when roswell had set out of broken antler fen to explore the neighboring territories, the sun warming along his back and guiding his path, the further into the haunted wood he traverses, the darker the world grows. roswell, unperturbed by the spinning web of darkness the haunted wood spins, the canopy's limbs braided together like the work of forest druids, he is nonetheless bridled with the shivering sort of excitement that one gets when they know they're doing something they shouldn't be.

lured deeper into the dark woods by the magic he can feel pulsing beneath the earth like a heart beat. it calls to him; whispering sweet nothings into his eager ears, coaxing him without restraint. magic hangs heavy here, in every breath, in every shivering leaf slowly turning color with the changing of seasons.

ignorant of the dark and bloodied gods that were once worshipped in the bowels of these woods; roswell marvels over the perceived strength he draws from this place, content to idle away his day here; exploring its secrets.

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with the changing of the seasons and the transition out of the warm summer nights to cooler fall mornings, shikoba busies herself with attempting to find different game. everything that the spine offers to the inhabitants of moonglow is appreciated and rightfully eaten, but she always worries about the growing numbers of mouths to feed. hopefully, with her small trek outside of the rung, she may find the trails of larger game. the caribou that kukutux talks about makes her stomach growl only for a moment.

the haunted woods is an unknwon place to shikoba, though there is a good chance she has passed through it before. with the woman being more spiritual, sometimes she thinks she feels things that may or may not be there. she is by no means a trained spiritualist in the sense that she can see or communicate with what she may think is there. rather, she can simply believe, perhaps even sense, if there could be something unearthly nearby.

though, it seems her predictions are a tad off when it turns out to be a younger wolf nearby, soaking up whatever energy the woods is offering to him. a simple chuff is offered, curiosity laces her tone. what is he doing out here?

absorbed in the exploration of the dark woods; tasting the sultry magicks that linger in the earth, in the depths of the trees ...roswell is not immediately aware that he was no longer alone. if he ever was. it was the first lesson of being a good mercenary: not letting one's guard down, especially outside the safety of the fen ...and the rule of thumb that fled the second that the velveteen darkness of the haunted woods cocooned him in it's embrace.

it is only when the chuff reaches out to his ears like grasping fingers that roswell is alerted to the presence of the stranger and startled he whips around; guard hairs bristling along his nape. who're you? he demands asks; usual friendliness surrendered to the prickling instinct to protect himself against strangers who were older and thus much more experienced than him.

it sounds like someone is caught with their hand in the cookie jar, the boy is years below shikoba in terms of age and life experience. his instant demand for knowledge causes the woman to tense up a bit, ears flattening for only a moment with a lift of the brow. though, she goes back to a more relaxed position and decides to offer an answer to his question. normally if he were her own, she'd nip him in the rump for his demanding question.

"guardian of moonglow." a simple answer, perhaps if he extends his name to her, she will offer hers back. "who you, and why out here alone?" now this is the fun part, the name game.