Blackfeather Woods and then my blood rushed to my face

relmyna did not fault tundra for disturbing her, yet the set of her head was weary as she lifted it, reopening seafoam eyes to settle on the newcomer. hello, tundra, came her noiseless greeting. a shake of her head in answer to the woman's question, but her gaze returned to the altar, always, always. never had her prayers failed to leave her without some semblance of peace after; even now, she leant into the whispering of the mother and relaxed.
are you a spiritual creature? came the listener's inquiry. keeping to herself as she had been, relmyna realized she knew little about the dealings of the others in her pack. a failing, she supposed; blackfeather curled in on itself in dying throes, and she could not be roused from even her own reverie.