King Elk Forest This poem is mournful & sentimental & filled with complaints:

the call brought forth the misty woman, a gentle gallop was set for a pace as the cut through the woods in order to seek our her morwinyon. She was curious about what he called the group together for, though she would have her answers when she arrived. She didn't pick up much as she got closer, but something about the way the air felt made her want to gag.

When she broke gait into a trot, she realized why the pack had been called together. The elk, the king elk to be exact, had fallen and lay before them, dead weight. Gracious felt a wave of sadness wash over her as she drew closer, noticing how Queenie asserted herself against what looked to be a deformed wolf. While she would rather scold the girl for chasing away the mysterious boy, she let her be, deciding to come up next to Delight and gently nudge his shoulder with her nose. She offered him a reassuring expression before settling before the carcass and doing what she can to show her respect.

She bows, her entire front body begins to tilt forward as her legs bent beneath her, holding her steady. She doesn't know what to think of this situation, but all she can do is wait for the others to come along.