Deepwood Weald immolation

It was strangely satisfying to hear her voice carry upon the wind, and soothing, at least until Saga realized the sound was being contained by the trees. If anyone did hear her, they'd have to be pretty close — and then they might have been lost themselves, or maybe preparing for the inevitable lost soul to encounter. The mere thought of being hunted by someone malicious made Saga's scruff begin to prickle; although she didn't have time to really think about the possibility in-depth, because there was a pale creature slipping with practiced grace through the mess of trees, and she seemed minorly distressed herself.

When Saga saw her, she gasped a soft sound. It was like witnessing a ghost. The girl barely touched upon the soil and seemed to move around flowers and things, rather than through them, with great care. Yet she reached Saga swiftly. Her words were swift as well, but filled with the worry of a sister or a mother, and the dark girl found her own fears beginning to quell. o-oh, hello, she meekly responded, because the stranger's entrance was quite abrupt. I.. I didn't think anyone would hear me. How did you get here so quick? Do you live here?

Realizing these were not answers to her question, Saga's head bobbed apologetically, and her ears fanned either side of her head as a subtle display of indecision. I thought I was stuck in here — never been here before.