Blackfeather Woods i.i : you gotta be crazy; gotta have a real need

The woman had become curious, seeking out plants to extinguish the memories that were arising more and more. She’d experienced turmoil from the willow tree’s effects, so that was not a place she’d go again. Instead, she’d consumed a number of mushrooms, brown and sickly smelling. 

She wandered to the borders, leaves loud and easily identifying her presence. In her drugged haze, the Gyrfalcon came to her again, leading her to a wraith. A wolf. She did not recognise it as Maegi. The smokey whisp of the bird circled the figure as it trotted to the brewing light. 

In the woman's mind, the solid wraith couldn’t leave. The dark forest called for their presence and forbade her departure. With trembling gait, Flicker moved forward, her scarlet a stain amongst the trees shadows. She loped to the figure, wavering and weaving without obstacle to avoid; making her line to the white flash that drew nearer with each stride. 

Her eyes rimmed with red and dilated with black made the thin stretch of gold — her purity — almost nonexistent as she bore down on the figure; their scent infused with fresh wounds and ripped features became clearer.

If the solid wraith didn’t avoid the wild swing of yellowed ivories, they would sink into the scruff of her target and her form will barrel them both over. If she did dodge, then the woman would stumble and turn again to stop her leaving.