Blackfeather Woods Rust to rust

some time had passed since the dybbuk had been so far east - the last he had ventured in blackfeather's borders, he had been turned away by the sharp intonation of fangs. for months he had nursed his wounds - more internal than external - and finding it within himself to visit the pale priestess that had the rare honor of seeing a more tender side of him, iliksis made for the sunblackened realm.

yet realm it appeared to be no longer - kove's claim was gone, and the scent of the white listener remained no longer. without such borders to repel him, iliksis walked once more among blackfeather, noting how surreal the forest seemed, once teeming with life and now abandoned.

in silence he drifted through, passing at landmarks he knew, his shrewd gaze flitting about him. while the forest seemed unmanned, he detected consistent scents within it -- and as he came to an altar, he saw a pale form sitting atop its grim face, with a bone between her paws. mistaking her at first for relmyna, the dybbuk's ears pulled forth in interest -- but it was then he realized the beast's youth, and his tail fell with a silent kind of disappointment.