Ravensblood Forest Foolish Protector

;___; 

The howls and cries summoned Olive from her lair. It had been a gloriously languid afternoon and Olive felt the need to do no more than lay amongst the stone of her den; their small haven of warmth amongst the flurries that puffed gently between the trees. She watched the snowfall with her head cradled delicately upon two paws, peridot gaze tracking individual snowflakes as they floated and swayed to the ground. She pondered the infiniteness of nature for a little bit. Then she nosed around her Rose Quartz, trying to keep it free from frost. Then, screams.

She wasn’t truly concerned, at first. Her muscles ached to move and quickly loosened in the throes of her sprint, carrying her lightly and swiftly to the sounds’ epicenter. She did not expect a horrible scene….not after Ceannasach deemed the family safe. He had lifted the family’s lockdown and as such, Olive felt herself able to relax once again and sidled back into her pleasurable habits. As such, the woman had imagined the noises to be Chusi or Dakarai or another hunter had taken down prey or perhaps there was a spar going on… but when the two pained howls were loosed into the air’s frequency, haste and concern overtook her.

The waif stepped quietly on the scene. The blood that stained the snow so beautifully was not that of a forest creature, but a wolf. Family. Palisander.

Olive’s breath stopped for a moment. How could this be? One of her closest friend, slain at the hands of another. But these wounds… no, they were not from a wolf. The scent that lingered [difficult to distinguish from the metallic overtones of the murderous scene] was more feline than canine. Palisander had been torn from the existence by the fangs of a different forested predator, a cougar…. and perhaps suffered a more painful death because of it.

Olive shut her eyes tightly, unwilling to look at the scene any longer. Melancholy emotions were quickly rising, taking place of her initial shock. Blindly she moved towards where her shadowed protector stood. Olive hid her visage amongst the thick pelt of his shoulder, finding the crook of his collarbone. Was the world out to get them, to teach her some lesson about the futility of spirit and the arbitrations of nature? At least, amongst the sadness, she had Dakarai. Perhaps the god had sent Dakarai to her because they knew about the dark times to come. But Isley… Isley had no one. She had the family, yes, but her mate was deceased and Olive could never imagine the pain she felt. The grey woman moved from Dakarai towards Isley but did not touch the grieving wife. Instead, Olive summoned her song and from her lips spilled the third iterations of the same, sad, haunting howl.