Blackfoot Forest all gods dispense suffering without reason

wintersbane recollects his bearings — assures himself that he's in fact in the place that he thinks he is. after all, it's kind of hard to mistake blackfoot forest as it carries with it the scent of foxes which is a very pungent and in his opinion unpleasant smell. the dark brother pushes forward. he does not intend to be gone from blackfeather woods for too long. the journey here already stole some hours from him — though he did not rush. he is not sure that here is where he'll find possible recruits for the dark woods but he keeps a keen eye out all the same.

there was never a shortage of lone wolves and he is not afraid to play to the desperation that travels in the months coming before winter. shortage of food, fresh water sources freezing over, possible hypothermia.

it is that keen eye that catches a familiar shape in the distance. familiar not because he knows her but because she is wolven — and the scent that follows after the initial visual acknowledgement of her proves his quick assessment to be correct. she would've easily been missed if there'd been more snow to blanket the moss carpeted forest floor. he smells others on her but isn't able to discern if it means pack or not. irregardless, his steps slow and he assess her across the distance that separates them slower this time, taking in what he can see of her, letting out a low chuff to announce his presence to her, lest he startle her.