Blackfeather Woods you're lying with your gold chain on, cigar hanging from your lips

she had become wary of those around her, save for her own blood and wintersbane. kove's imposing frame was silent, and the meloniis left to follow damien had not returned. still — the woman's mind etched itself with an aversion that grew each passing day.
she trusted not the pale pair, nor the joiners they had brought. it was with some grim expression that the listener drew up upon kalganov, marking in silence along the border. a dark ear flicked; the scarred wolfess drifted forth to add her own scent along the tree, arching her body against a nearby trunk in quietude.