Blackfeather Woods are you afraid of dying alone

set sometime before his joining thread with akashingo. a wild seer thread appears!

the morning sun plays hide n' go seek with the broken clouds that skitter across the sky. the woodlands that ingram moves through — his threadbones tucked safety away in a hidden nook — is blanketed by darkness.

the trees group together thickly; an omnipresent breeze tugs at his fur.

greedily, seaglass gaze studies the forest floor looking for anything he could add to his bone collection.

He'd wandered after dalliance with the woman, successful or no. The dark forest drew him in like shadows in the evening; he'd never seen such a place before, and was absorbed into it with a mixed sense of wariness and curiosity.

Still he burned for her, and for others in heat.

But who he found was a man, looking at the ground, meandering around detritus.

He passed by and then chuffed, eyes burning into the burly man, questioning. He sank well into the dark trees and watched, unsure, chin lifted.

the blackwoods is not a quiet woodland: eerie calls sounds along the treeline, the click of ungulate joints, the rustle of underbrush and the crunch of debris beneath ingram's own paws as he unknowingly shifts through the territory of part of his family tree.

he comes across what he assumes to be a once altar, overgrown but beneath the twisting vines that had begun to reclaim it he finds bones.

he studies them for a prolonged moment, feeling the familiar tug towards them; though trying to determine which one 'spoke' to him to add to his threadbones might take some time.

this process is interrupted.

the feeling of being watched is a prickle of needles along his shoulders, slithering down his spine. he bristles with unease. who's there? calling into the shadows of the woods, hoping that he was not just speaking to a curious woodland critter.

He chuffed again and emerged from the shadows, head slightly bowed, watching the man with wary gaze. They're much of a size, two gargantuans against a somewhat-confining forest. He wondered what had brought the other here.

Dhizok barked, and bowed even lower, sending snow and pine needles sailing forward with a snort. He moved forward, step by step, yellow eyes trained upon the other burly man.

the second chuff, the patronsaint hears.

seaglass gaze focuses upon the large shadow cloaked man that emerges.

shadow quiet.

ingram desires greatly to continue searching for bones to use for his threadbones.

perhaps you could help me. i'm searching for bones to use for readings.

He didn't understand. He moved closer to the burly man and snuffled along the ground, eyes rolling upward. Prey? his body language suggested.

He moved slightly sideways and snuffled more into the dirt. Food?

Dhizok lifted his head, expectant, and his jaw cocked to one side. Once the young man instructed him physically, he would move.

somewhere, the translation gets lost.

ingram is not sure how to communicate that he isn't interested in food — but in bones.

true, bones could be taken from whatever the two of the managed to hunt ... but old bones were less work. and, in truth, ingram had no quarry.

sure, there were plenty of woodland critters shuffling about, probably more deeper in the heart of the woods but he hadn't been searching for prey.

bring me bones. ingram tries again, this time more desperate; seaglass gaze searching for any signs that his words were understood.

sorry! he a dummy. feel free to continue without

The words meant nothing. Dhizhok stared at the burly man and his strange tongue and then shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

He turned and bustled through the brush of Blackfeather Woods, looking for a better opportunity.

annoyance bites deep into ingram's core as the stranger moves on.

but the patronsaint makes no effort to stop him.

there was a disconnect and ingram is, in the end, fine with this. he continues to his search for bones on his lonesome.