The Sentinels for the soul is dead that slumbers

The young female stuck close, allowing Atticus to lead the way. He knew the path to Shadewood better than she. In fact, she hadn't a clue what the place looked like. But from it's name alone, she had a sure guess that it was some type of forest...likely heavily shadowed. She'd find out for herself when they arrived, and ultimately, if she'd be joining their band. She wasn't opposed to pit stops; she welcomed them, taking every chance she had to rest her legs, wet her tongue, and if lucky, fill her belly.

The whiff of salt in the air told her that they were near the coastline. But she could not see it. Out of reach, it teased her nose as she instead, picked her way carefully through the maze of fallen trees. Her icy eyes scanned them, lingering on the ashy remains. Her guess was that a fire, at one point had spread here. She couldn't be sure. At least with the canopy clear, the view of the cold night sky and it's stars spread gloriously above her.

Having been content to walk in silence, she stopped upon noting the change in Atticus' posture. Seconds later, as he had done, her eyes zeroed in on the dark stranger. She hung back, tail relaxed but rust ears pricked attentively.  She offered no sound, only an inquisitive lift of her head as she paced to the right, trying to read his next possible move.