Ravensblood Forest all gods who receive homage are cruel

unlike the other, she is not built for the snow. her steps would be slowed if not for her longer limbs carrying her over some banks. the woman walks as quietly as possible; an art she had come to near-perfect in the days on this earth. the future in this particular realm uncertain, though inquisitive enough, and she wonders if she will stay long. no ties had been given. no deeper meaning behind her aimless wanders. or perhaps it is the fault of other people, for having no effect on her being?

she does not actively seek them out. these connections others boast of, these fanciful fleets upon the mind leading to things beyond her understanding. friendship - those people who would let you down. romances - ultimately betrayed by a one you had loved. she heard the stories. she did not need to experience them. enemies and rivals tended to be more honest. though she did lack finding one that would measure up to her. 

and this one would be no different, she mused silently within her mind, having caught sight of another. she slowed her pace, watching him from the depths of the treeline. he smelt of a pack - of many wolves - though the location and their goals were foreign to her. she did not know the name of their community. the scent was not known through the others she had met so far. Huntington chose to watch further, speaking no words to him. if he passed her entirely by, she too would continue to walk away.