Deepwood Weald Let these bones be the giver

"I'm Flicker Vaidya, from Blackfeather Woods."

Blackfeather Woods - a name he'd witnessed crumble to the earth. The reputation lay not within the woods themselves, he'd uncovered, but in those who claimed the true blood, the powerful blood. Meloniis. He had sworn himself to guarding the king and queen of the darkness, watching their crowns embellished in gold, who'd raised him without question, never speaking of his past: not where he came from, nor who he'd left behind.

Flicker Vaidya. Blackfeather Woods.

This sliver of information tempted his interest, unfurling like a waking viper to swipe venemous fangs across her veins - she knew of the woods, and when she spoke Maegi's name, the devil let his tongue swipe across the blackened lips, that only a few hours prior had been washed in crimson blood. He recounted quite suddenly the luminescence of her ivory pelt, glittering in the moon's glow at barely a few moons old, but shook it just as quickly, barring his thoughts under a steel cage. What had become of the ghost?

"She is not here." A blunt reply, solemn but laced with something sharp, prickly. Danger, it was whispered within the very curve of his muzzle, the scars ripping the edges of his shoulder, tearing across his face. "But the meloniis are."