Fox's Glade that’s just the waves slamming against the topsides’ sound

as indra's eyes pried into the bush, it shook -- and spoke. fantastical as it was, indra knew it to be animal rather than spirit, and when the wolf underneath the arch of brambles spoke, indra dropped the quail to the ground. it had not even fully landed before she assertively placed a paw atop it. she had learned the hard way to trust the words of strangers.

never again.

the voice was young, but the figure that emerged from the bush seemed even younger -- indra watched with vexation as the bloodied face, followed by a pale body, extracted itself from the thorns. she did not notice maegi's bent paw, for her gaze was transfixed on the hideous wound that snarled her face. "i'm from the valley, yes." she answered, still studying the bloody tapestry of rent flesh. in light of maegi being adolescent, her gruff defensiveness was greatly diminished. "who did that to you?"