Blackfeather Woods and he spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower

the ravens spoke.
morning; another night spent in communion alongside the altar. 
there was a grave seed within blackfeather; the listener could no longer bear to ignore her senses. rout it out, came the prince's whisper — sithis was not one who came oft to relmyna. but here he was, his dread voice a sibilant breath stirring the fringes of her awareness. her heartbeat quickened; stride lengthened. 
she sought out their scents — mou, maegi, kalganov, wintersbane. it was not long before revealed to her was the tendril of another fragrance, one that struck dumb fear into her spirit. for it was overlaid with the aura of the dark weald, but not truly one of their own. 
her step carried her to the cave-mouth, and there like fire
blood fire end
wreathing through stone mouths was a she-wolf relmyna did not recognize, and an anger began to grow in her weary heart.
who are you? came her soft mouthing, but the hardness of her gaze did not invite dissuasion from her question.