Blackfeather Woods my love

potema.
she watched the pale man with his great scarrings from the shadows for a time, wondering who it was came to blackfeather's door. there was dread within her, but it softened as the bloodstained scent of flicker swathed her senses. the willowy warrioress regarded the man with no small amount of hatred, and relmyna knew this must be a wolf from the mountain pack, perhaps the same who had wounded her, though she found the latter unlikely.
stepping forward, plume arched imperiously over her thin haunches, the listener regarded the impressive visitor with a cool expression to her gaze. he had called for potema, but it had been many moons since relmyna had seen the witch. she has gone from us, came her gentle mouthing, slow, so that the man might catch it. are you of moonspear?
flicker was gestured to her side, if the woman so chose, both for support and for a show of solidarity before the stranger.