Blackfeather Woods the song you sing is wretched and cold

She had not expected visitors; even Rannoch and his wolves she had misled about where they resided. Surely none would dare to tread closer. Then again, if her two little wards had not shown fear for her home, then who was to say an adult did not gag at the mere sight of entrails and blood splattered across the border? But the howl rang clear as day, awakening the Speaker with a jerk of her head. Slowly did she stand up, covering both wards with some warm bedding and a fluttering kiss that would feel like butterfly wings grazing their heads and went on her way. She wondered if Damien would accompany her upon the border, since she had yet to learn to accept strangers - not as in the pack, but in her heart.

She crept from out the shadows, speckled, drowsy yet noble and with an air of dominance about her. The woman (or was it a man? honestly, you never knew these days) that had showed up was not exactly a picture of importance and grace. With one glance did Nyx spot the bewildered state she was in, as if she had returned from a great battle with nothing more than her sanity. At least, if that hadn't been lost as well. Nyx's mismatched eyes glared judgingly at the stranger, waiting silently for an explanation.