Bramblepoint The mold of your life is in your hands to break

Forests were safe in a way Saarthal never truly understood until now. She used to hate them; as a kid, she loathed the fact that she couldn't see anyone or anything, she felt lost and alone and trapped, never understanding the advantage of hiding. For she was always seeking, forever seeking. It was this thought nagging at the corner of her mind that drew forth the strange, vague smile, tinged with nostalgia and edged with a strange sort of cynicism that tugged at the girl's lips as she nosed at the dirt. She squinted, then began to wander quietly, paws not necessarily soft on the floor as she followed a game trail...perhaps she should stop digging out the demons of the past or battling the wisps of the ghostly future and focus on the present, but she'd never been good at that. Never been good at not thinking. One day, she felt, it would cost her her life. But until then...food.