Jade Fern Grove you are alive and are dying

she is alone for only moments before a figure emerges from the damp and the dark; and as they come closer, hosannah feels a prickling of her fur, for she does not like the look of this one. a vagabond with an ego? perhaps. the stranger comes closer without fear, and arches her tail. hosannah witnesses this plainly, and as they speak she is filled with a mixture of emotions. mirth, for one thing, bubbles forth and catches behind her clenched teeth. irritation is another, but she resists lifting her lips. the stranger carries the scent of aaron, and her words - though false - bring a smile to hosannah's worn features.

no, i am not, she corrects swiftly, perhaps too sharply but hosannah is tired and her hunger is wearing her thin. you are one of aaron's wolves, as i am. i am returning to him — and the forest of the roses is still days from here. but she still wonders what this rose is doing off of the vine; has aaron sent this stranger out in search of her? it is doubtful. more likely, this girl is doing what hosannah herself had attempted. her smile broadens across her long snout, and she adds, i have been far to the north, but there is nothing there, so i return. perhaps they could walk together for a while? hosannah knew she had not freed her body of the scent of reek or the others, so her tale could only hold up for so long.