Blackfeather Woods pollen and politics will be the death of me

It took a lot of time to grow used to Blackfeather Wood's dark ecosystem. The shadows were deeper and longer here than elsewhere, the trees more huddled, the wildlife more furtive. It was dim and gloomy even in the middle of a sunny day, but at night it was positively impossible to navigate if you weren't familiar with its every feature. Ramsay struggled with it too, now, having been gone so long from his birth home. He pressed on anyway, occasionally tripping or bumping into gnarled trunks here and there.

In the low light, Sanguinus may as well have been a wolf-shaped shadow devoid of all features. The pale of his eyes was visible by the sharp glow that reflected off them, but otherwise, the scarlet of his fur appeared black to Ramsay. He struggled for a moment to place the man before realizing from his scent that they hadn't met. Must have been another of Maegi's friends, or perhaps one of Titmouse's this time.

Sweeping forward, the dwarf quietly asked, lost? It isn't hard to lose your way in here.