Felltree Marsh Iron

For her age, she had seen much. She was mature in all ways but the one; she had never known youth, never been given the opportunity to. Any time an attempt was made to behave as the child she truly had been when a cub was rebuked, and her path would be adjusted again and again. Her genetics attributed to much of her present demeanor, but conditioning had played its own part as well. She was reared not with gentleness or sensitivity, but of the opposite qualities. There was plenty more growing for her to do; for now, Sangilak treated everything in an incredibly casual, lax manner. Her aloofness was the only telltale sign of her youth. As she did not know what she wanted, and was not yet heeding the howl of her ambition, there was little else for her to do but discover.

The ghost had accepted her invitation and together they moved. They moved in silent and commanding unison, and though they were night and day in color any onlooker might see that they complemented one another in their tread. Her ears were pricked atop her head and she remained alert, and one ear cupped toward the stranger, hearing how his heavyset step impacted the earth as her own did. Sangilak thought of his bearing and desired him for herself, not in a manner that regarded lust but in feeling and presuming his potential. Her cursory look moments before departure had not afforded her the chance to see if he bore any scars as she did beneath her thick and knotted furs, and her imagination was so limited that she could not imagine them.

She lengthened her stride, her shifting ears anticipating his following suit, to push them into a brisk jog onward. Sangilak looked at the place they were headed toward. A nameless forest that preceded the Tangle, thickly wooded and rich with green from the start. Sangilak sought to cut through the forest, which might take some time, to end the journey at the cliffs.