Ravensblood Forest run devil run

Bazi had returned to Ravensblood Forest to paint a fresher, happier memory of the place; one that did not include witnessing child murder. Creek business had kept her her mind from wandering back to that event, but it replayed in her mind again and again as she made her way through the gloom. The babe's innate trust in Björn, its last, pitiful mewl.. the Creek's Eta shook her head and focused on the road head, looking for a distraction.

Unfortunately, that distraction was Björn.

He burst into view like a star, ethereal white and badly camouflaged - much like Bazi, whose own fur was now regularly groomed and without blemish. To make matters worse, she had stumbled directly into the warden's line of vision - within less than a of the spectral goat his glazed, wandering eyes were now struggling to focus on. As far of Bazi could tell, something - perhaps fever - had separated him from his wits, and the unsteady gaze made it look as though he was targeting her, not a figment of his imagination.

"Heiðrún…", he slurred, forming the foreign word with reverence and love. It shared sounds with the words he had murmured mere days earlier, and the force of her reaction to it made Bazi's toes curl into the needle-strewn. Her posture morphed from alert to defensive - ears flat, head lowered, and lips twitching over sharp teeth.

From Björn's point of view, her head was exactly in line with the hazy shadow of his beloved deity.