Felltree Marsh vvitch

It was through experience she knew how to traipse the landscape, with all its subtle hidden dangers. But to do so correctly was not quick progress. The moon gave such little light to the dark marsh that one could be tricked to see a patch of raised land only to find their paw being plunged into a sinkhole. When the whine did break the peace of the forest, she shifted, with curiosity, at the pitiful sound. The natural drift of her ears pointed to the source, but she was slow to physically seek it.

At first she simply peeked to find the culprit, tiptoeing along large arched roots and elevated slopes of trapped logs. Her slight shadow was near silent, even more so when found the figure of the other wolf nearly swallowed by the muck. She pondered, quickly, but all the same—she weighed the options of allowing him to struggle and find relief for himself or allow herself to become part of this developing situation. Jaguara’s own habit for prying got the best of her, perched on the point of a sharp stone she rummaged around her for something of use.

Grabbing a branch between her jaws, which was short and wide (much more like a blunt stick), she aimed to jab at him from the back of his head without any previous warning.