Blackfeather Woods i am the unspoken

the howl had his ears perk up, and then he was in motion, heading for the source as he slipped through the wood, the dry, faded leaves crunching underfoot. there was naught but the sound of his progress through the wood, coupled with the cawing of ravens, that announced his prescence when he finally came acros the other, his expression blank and cold, perhaps a near exact replica of his mother's. he was silent as he drew up a short distance from the other, standing casually as he stared. his icey gaze settled on the other's, watching, waiting for another to show up. he was but a judge, he had learned, and only his mother truly understood his silent language. 

thus he sat patiently, eyes locked on the figure of the other. he would wait. and then, he would watch and judge as had become his custom, the duty he fulfilled without question. the slate raven stared, and waited, and was silent as he greeted the other with an emotionless, searching gaze.