Phantom Hollow for the night is dark and full of terrors

phaedra is currently still covered in raven blood and has some big raven feathers poking out here and there, haha.

it is quiet except for the crunch of leaves beneath her paws.  even the moonlight dares not to penetrate from the shielding canopy above, and the wisp feels almost out of place as she weaves between the thick trunks before her.

the scent of blood is what draws her, of course.  she is pining, hungry, and pervious attempts to feed herself have all failed — except for what she has been able to beg from strangers or the leftovers she could scavenge. in a fit of hunger and pent-up fury, she has mutilated her front legs again as well.

she continues through the brush, nearing closer until those too-big ears catch the near silent footfalls of another; the bloodsmell getting closer as well.  perhaps she should not try again, she muses, individuals have not been too keen on sharing with her.

her indecision causes her to pause, and preoccupied by her own thought she loses track of the other, unaware of just how obvious she is.