Blackfeather Woods and took my eyesight quite away

the woods were quiet, but a strange tendril grappled astara. she paused and gave the quiet bosk her full attention -- something had probed her conscious, but when she scanned the vicinity the only thing that caught her glare was the lone and mist-covered shade.

she felt an urge to seek out the companionship of her mother, and knowing where her dwindling dam oft preferred to inhabit, astara made for the strange alter. her mother was prone on its stony face, and the girl frowned to see such exhaustion worn plainly on her dam's face.

she had noticed as of late the tremors, the slipping consciousness -- the gradual wastage of her mother's body. day by day she looked more ghost than wolf, and one day astara was afraid she would discover her dam had faded entirely.

stepping up to the stone shrine, the girl gently brushed her muzzle across relmyna's cheek, her gaze seeking the fractured teal of her mother with somber concern.