Phoenix Maplewood dancing to the beat of a midnight raga

indra took a moment to look around them, at the spires of dark wood that intersected the forest in pylons of dark shade and canted light. she nodded at his question and added lightly "right next to it." easthollow was, perhaps, their closest neighbor -- indra had only met a few wolves from their keep, but had found their passing amicable.

a small smile burst unexpectedly across her lips as the male revealed the name -- befitting -- and exactly right. she looked above them at the bare outstretched tree limbs and just thought of how they looked in the height of summer: viridescent green and red against magnificent dark boughs. "that's funny -- it's called phoenix maplewood. or it was.." she trailed off for a moment, considering how to answer his question faithfully: "i was born here. that's what my parents called it, anyway..."