Blackfeather Woods going off my head, down to somewhere

they squared each other off as if two old enemies of some bicameral lost order; one white, one black -- two souls of irrevocable differences that, combined, made something strange and whole.

a small growl rippled through the dark cub's throat: a challenge, or some dare otherwise. the blanched child stirred, and astara saw the indomitable fire in her eyes as she came forth with jaws parted. 

astara turned tail to protect her prize, but not quick enough -- a weight on the end of the root announced averna's hold over it. with puffing cheeks, astara gripped the root hard and sunk to the ground ostensibly,  refusing to relinquish what she had fought so hard to unearth.