Fairspell Meadow If there’s a wrong road, I’m damn sure gonna take it

The peck from one of the birds woke the wolf, dark gold eyes opening, glazed but quickly clearing with awareness. One of the birds, which assumed was a raven from its size, landed on her back. Disturbed by the sudden weight, she turned her head around, blinking curiously at the raven. It blinked back, with one eye, like Potema. While the resemblance was interesting, she had a wolf to talk to.

"I certainly heard it, if that's any consolation." Her blind eye was in the direction of the falling wolf. Her good eye had been plastered firmly onto the tornado, watching its path, praying to Mephala and Sithis and the other Daedric Princes that it did not head north. Her ears had picked up the sound of the debris falling as the tornado disappeared, but her eye did not see them be dropped by the meadow. "I'm guessing that you're not hurt." At the most he might have a few bruises, but broken ribs did not look likely. Then again, she could be wrong.