Blackfeather Woods my mind is filled with cataclysm and apocalypse

*monopolizes all khalil threads*

She is home, and she feels safe again. The forest leaves a puzzle piece in you, something that is left unfinished the moment you stray away from its permanent shadows. When she is home she feels whole, her magic flares to life within her and she can stride with confidence rather than with skulking fear.

She reaps the bounty that had bloomed for her in her absence, uncut by her pickings and collecting. It is her second trip this morning. She tempers her impulse to pick the Woods clean, knowing that the Woods need to grow, to replenish before summer's end, so that the winter, should it be even half as cruel as the one past, is liveable for the whole pack.

Her mouth is half full with leaves, bound tight in a broad leaf, lest the juices seep into her tight grip. She moves from one picked patch to the next, eye scowering for the next vital herb, her head sweeping wide to allow her single gem of an eye to see both sides of her. Through one of these sweeps, she sees a child. It is not one of her own, she knows. She fixates on him for a long while, then calls out to him. Who are you, child?