Blackfeather Woods and stole my heart away complete

astara was a proud girl; and yet, pride had been the ruin of many men. she glanced from the mother she adored to the darkly clad, raucous subjects. surely there was a deeper meaning here she had yet to grasp 

mute as ever the nightcub followed the sweeping strides of her dam. underfoot the raw crunch of whittled bones announced their passing - astara felt a chill climb her spine as they moved, yet it was the grim and spectral smile of her felled kin that’s undid her. she glanced upon it’s fractured forehead, the deep cleft of its vacant orbital plate. 

it stared back; astara felt aware of a hostile presence in those sightless holes - a malign and sleeping will that spread its reach around them. a growl started low in her throat, and she looked fearfully to her mother for some sort of comfort.