King Elk Forest and those who chance upon it, should never step inside

“Observant of you,” the dark crow offered to her fumbling of names. There was a twinge of sarcasm that latched to the word, not bothering to be hidden by any form of social grace. Everything about his demeanor suggested that – while spooky – he was nothing more than a gruff hermit who seemed at peace in the dark loneliness of the woods. There wasn't much harm that would have come from him, unless she had it in her mind to pick fights with shadowed strangers in the night.

The stranger introduced herself as Rory, and while the stygian figure did not entirely see it as being important, he nodded his head to her in a curt manner and offered his own moniker, “Sojourn.” Once he had lifted his muzzle back up to a level position, he canted his head ever so slightly to the left. While his features remained rather surly, there was a hint of curiosity there.

“Do you frequently shout at strangers in the woods?”