Deepwood Weald immolation

For @Deirdre — also being vague about her appearance and potential injuries re: her previous thread.

It was with thunderous applause that Saga found her way in to the weald; she was a one-woman stampede as she crossed between the less-tangled foliage and delved in to the shadows. Her heart was racing, blood pumping like fire in her veins, and when she finally caught her breath and took stock of the situation, she had gone much further than she had anticipated.

The forest had somehow worked its way around her like a living entity with a mind of its own; she had not intended to go so deeply in to the murk-dark forest, although it provided a place of respite after having been exposed and vulnerable in the previous hours. Saga panted heavily as she perused the nooks and crannies of this strange and lively place; her wandering took her further north, and over the course of several hours she felt her pulse return to normal but not her anxiety levels — because she could not find a way out. There was darkness and life here, and it was so tangled it had become an entirely new obstacle for her to overcome. 

Saga was tired, hungry, and beginning to panic. So she did the only thing she felt she could do — lift her head and call pitifully for help.

it was a dream that led her here, long before the call lifted o'er the tree tops. she idled mutely at the edges of the forest in a trance until the song rang like a bell, and the witch was summoned thusly! deirdre arrived in little time, eyes taking the other in while her nose drank of her. the witch said nothing, yet, but compassion drove her to draw nearer until finally, she breathed worriedly: what is amiss?

It was strangely satisfying to hear her voice carry upon the wind, and soothing, at least until Saga realized the sound was being contained by the trees. If anyone did hear her, they'd have to be pretty close — and then they might have been lost themselves, or maybe preparing for the inevitable lost soul to encounter. The mere thought of being hunted by someone malicious made Saga's scruff begin to prickle; although she didn't have time to really think about the possibility in-depth, because there was a pale creature slipping with practiced grace through the mess of trees, and she seemed minorly distressed herself.

When Saga saw her, she gasped a soft sound. It was like witnessing a ghost. The girl barely touched upon the soil and seemed to move around flowers and things, rather than through them, with great care. Yet she reached Saga swiftly. Her words were swift as well, but filled with the worry of a sister or a mother, and the dark girl found her own fears beginning to quell. o-oh, hello, she meekly responded, because the stranger's entrance was quite abrupt. I.. I didn't think anyone would hear me. How did you get here so quick? Do you live here?

Realizing these were not answers to her question, Saga's head bobbed apologetically, and her ears fanned either side of her head as a subtle display of indecision. I thought I was stuck in here — never been here before.

deirdre was thoughtful for a moment before she responded to the others question, choosing honesty: a dream brought me to these woods, came her voice filled with warmth, though i live within donnelaith--the forest that neighbors this one. she gestured in the general direction donnelaith was, fondness seeping into her voice as she spoke of home. the other continued to speak and deirdre listened, rapt, her eyes and nose both now seeking any sign of harm to the others wellbeing. pale ears lined with pink, cupping 'round the words spoken by the stranger. the other was lovely to the youth, and there was something more that drew deirdre to her, an energy--or aura--she was familiar with but could not yet put a name to. forests can play cruel tricks, and her voice was not filled with any ire at all. the woods grow lonely, and terribly bored. it is a true treat for the trees to see new faces, but if you listen well, they will tell you the way out; if you watch what little traces of light they let seep through their branches, you can see the pathway for yourself. the trees rustling leaves seemed to breathe a sigh of confirmation to this, and deirdre smiled.

A dream brought me to these woods. She flicked an ear at this, and controlled her expression as best she could, lest her eyes go wide like those of an owl. When the girl spoke of Donnelaith, Saga could not stop the recognition from crossing her features, and was filled with so many conflicting emotions she had to pause her thoughts and control them. The wind in the trees made her shiver, and while the pretty pale wolf spoke kindly and her voice was soothing, the words themselves sent chills throughout Saga's body.

It seemed as if Saga's namesake rang true in this place; though she did not actively seek the witches, she always found them.

They are only trees, she hastily denied, and shook her head ever so softly, speaking more for her own benefit than anything. The girl shifted her weight uncomfortably and then decided, since the trees were so eerie, that she would focus on her present company instead. Her gaze focused on the features of the white wolf and she drew closer, curious of her — yet wary also. Are you.. do you know Starbuck, the witch?

the others recognition was of little consequence to deirdre, who did not know an unkind soul within their borders. her dreams would not have brought her here to die, she felt. to the others words, deirdre's eyes drew toward the closest tree to her, and the trees seemed to moan in the wind, discouraged, disappointed, that the others eyes were closed so! indeed, they are only trees, as we are only wolves. her tail twitched idly behind her, her tone not at all reproachful but beckoning a new line of thought. her youthful eyes twinkled, though there was no mischief within them!  her eyes softened further toward the other when she heard the name 'starbuck'. i do, she admitted easily, what do you know of witches? she inquired, her own head tilting and her question asked gently.

The more she watched the nymph-like girl, the more Saga came to understand. She saw the flicker of interest in her eyes, the adoration, a serene sort of connectedness, and felt a strange pang of jealousy. While the darker of the pair could not relate to this bizarre affinity towards the natural world, she was finding herself more and more covetous of such a connection; it was not something taught to her by her peers, her mother had never been very holistic in her ways, so Saga had never experienced the world with any great spirituality. Perhaps spirituality was the wrong word? But this other wolf, this ghost, she seemed so at ease, and Saga did not know why, but she did not like it.

More important than that, Saga had discovered that this was not some fully-fledged master of magic, if she was a witch at all. This stranger looked to be about the same age as herself. She was more homely, with a round and soft body whereas Saga was narrow, boney, and rigid. It was yet another point of contention — this wolf of Donnelaith was beautiful, while Saga was merely average. She huffed softly and banished her many thoughts, focusing on the conversation as best she could.

What did she know of witches? Only what I have heard from Starbuck. She mentions that there are a number of such beings living within Donnelaith, and.. and she invited me to learn of them there. However, it had not been the northerner's intention to travel to their doorstep just yet; she was still wary of the concept, and even now felt the growing desire to separate herself from this specter of the forest. It would be rude to do so — so she remained.

I... also have dreams, but I do not know what they mean, Saga quietly revealed, although did not delve too deeply into the topic; she did not wish to be labeled a witch until she understood them, and so far she undecided on how she felt. Hastily, she adds, They are probably nothing at all — and thus she falls into an uneasy silence.