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

She forgets, sometimes, the sheer darkness of her fur, how well it hides her as she stares at the woman, a mere few meters away. Haltingly, she moves ever closer, stopping when she reaches the faint glow that spills in from the edge of the cave. Her gaze flickering to the woman and then away, to the warm-hued one and then the ground, and back to the pale woman, dull fury in her gaze. She shared the fiery woman's distrust of these wolves, and remained silent, tail still lashing.