Blackfeather Woods 8 reasons organization will change the way you think about everything

Leave it to Euron to spoil a precious moment. She rolled her baby blue eyes, walking away with a small snort. He would probably take the feather later, anyway. If he didn't. . .she would keep it.

It was pretty--the ravens were pretty. She loved to watch them congregate on the edges of the glen and in the trees above, peering down at her with their beady eyes. Their feathers gleamed black-blue in the moonlight, and a brilliant burnished dark color in the sun.

They were beautiful harbingers of death and chaos--and what Blackfeather babe wouldn't love that?

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