Ravensblood Forest pale sun rising

@Arturo
Occurs right after this thread, if that timing is okay with you!

Olive’s excursion to the singed remains of Donnelaith had not been a welcome one. After her run in with the Queen of the Depth, the druid had continued on in search of the grand forest she had visited several times. The entire scene was something out of a post-apocalyptic horror film; there was no sign of Deirdre, no sign of the young lass Witchhazel. Even their scents were long gone, surrendered to the licking fingers of the inferno [as well as time itself]. Her offering of a delicate bough of wintersweet and honeysuckle had been redirected towards the wolves of Teaghlaigh’s last remaining allies in hopes that it may soothe their ragged state of mind [and perhaps as an act of atonement to the scrappy queen]. The pale spirit has search fervently for a replacement, but the surrounding land and all flowers had been smothered by soot and snow. She could not honor misfortune with more misfortune, so in lieu of an offering Olive resigned to praying fervently for the souls of those lost and those departed, wishing upon her holy liturgy that they may find some peace and that the elemental spirits may soon return to some balance. Then she returned to Teaglaigh, her spirit no lighter than before. Olive trudged back through /Ravensblood Forest, weaving betwixt the bleeding sequoias and seeking the comforts of her stone grotto.