Twisted Slough a wind age

The girl's blood was on Ragna's paws, though time had worn away all physical evidence but the corpse rotting, hidden, in a field. The stain would remain, but already the guilt faded, chased away by reason and relief. The girl's packmates had come, but they had not asked after her killer, nor seemed to seek revenge. The only one now to hold her accountable was herself and, perhaps, Eshamun.

Still she wished to cleanse herself, to wash away the last of her troubles in the salt of the sea. And so she struck North, prepared to brave the slough in order to reach the ocean she had been born to. Perhaps she would find Szymon, whose company always soothed her.

Ears perked and eyes keen, Ragna delved into the slough. Small prey darted, invisible, around her. The wood was dark and damp, but she had walked its winding paths before. She kept her eyes down, watching for roots and rocks that materialized for the sole purpose of tripping an unwary wolf.

And so she came upon the woman without realizing it, rounding a twisted bend and preparing to leap over the very obstacle which the stranger sat upon. Ragna noticed her mere moments before jumping and merely stared, unsure of what to say and embarrassed by what would have been an unfortunate accident.