Blackfeather Woods There is definitely something rotten in the state of Camazotz

For a brief moment, she thinks the call is for her. She is silent, wary, but her heart leaps for a moment at the softness of the words, the kindness she imagines that they carry. She is resilient, but even the most resilient would succumb to the darkness eventually, should they be surrounded by it always. Her mind seems to play tricks on her, now, words where there aren't any, faces in the dark, paw steps on stone. This just might scare her more than the wolves of this wood; the inability to trust just exactly what she heard and saw eroding her confidence. 

The words are not for her, and thus she sinks back down into the shadows, making the slightest of sounds as her gaze fastens on the pale woman. The captive has a friend here, perhaps? They must know each other, if the red woman called for the other, but there does not seem to be anything threatening about her. She stays where she is, waiting to be noticed or not, not sure which she would prefer.