Blackfeather Woods My pride is no longer inside

She was close to the swamps when the howl summoned her. The witch was ankle deep in muck, ignoring the brown splotches on her otherwise snow-white pelt as she clasped mushrooms in her maw. These were not for summoning or passing through the boundaries of this world and the next; they had more medicinal purposes. With summer fast ending and the land only recently renewing itself, she was quick to gather as many useful herbs as she could.

But the howl disturbed her rounds. Had it been on the other side of the Woods, she might have ignored the call, but it was close to where she stood in the muck.

She didn't dare drop the mushrooms, instead taking them with her as she trudged through the mire towards the caller. Despite her closeness to the intruder, her brother, spurred on by the protectiveness only a monarch had, reached the girl — she was just a girl, wasn't she? — first. She merely approached behind him, his white shadow, tentatively dropping the mushrooms to allow herself to speak — or to fight if need be.