Blackfeather Woods death gazes in all directions, as curious as a hand, with blind eyes

it's very late and i have to wake up early so i am sorry if i started rambling somewhere lol

She watches his face, mostly studying his wound, but is taken offguard when he laughs softly. There is nothing, at least that she is aware of, that deserves a laugh within their conversation. But Potema was used to stranger folk, much stranger folk, than he, and passes off the incident without question, at least for the moment. If it came up again, she would ask, though she doubted that he would even recall the situation.

He speaks her name, the sound of it from his strangely accented voice foreign and beautiful at the same time. She has yet to place the words he spoke and the tinge of his voice. It's delightfully alien to her, and continued to add to the allure remaining from their first encounter.

It felt strange to allow an outsider in so quickly, so easily. She knew she was breaking the promise she had made with her brother, but with Damien's mental state, it would make no difference. Atli, if he stayed through the winter, if he could bear the darkness that his son had grown up in, would be an asset to the stagnating pack. More than that, for her own selfish reasons, he would be there to protect her.

She was without a doubt pregnant. No other male had touched her since Sheogorath, unlike her first heat. Whatever sick pleasure Sheogorath had taken from her was hopefully over, but she had no idea what else her brother had planned for her and the children he fathered. Come with me, She beckoned him to follow her, past the blood and bones that marked their borders. This is Blackfeather Woods, Knowing nothing of him, she introduced him to the Woods as if he was a true outsider, speaking with practiced authority after time after time of speaking on their religion and beliefs and history. He thought her to be a true High Priestess; she was not sure if she believed herself to be of the same caliber. But for him, she would try to be.