Blackfeather Woods water's thicker than blood, but blood is sticky

vaati prowled forth to meet his sister's call, passing through the endarkened territory with ease... as though he had never left. it felt strange to walk the grounds he had denounced time and time again, the woods he had been ruler of and subsequently cast out of. his life had begun under the shadowy canopy trees, and no sooner later, it had become his undoing. most likely, he would die there. a reality he had no effort left in him to change. 

"this place hasn't changed. everything else has, but never the woods itself. it refuses to crumble though it's inhabitants may suffer." he muses -- slightly bitterly -- as he draws closer to the center of the grove, remembering suddenly that the bones of their ancestors lied beneath them. he pawed lightly at the ground, wondering how easy it would be to dig up the remains of the founders of their family. had life been easier for them than it was for the descendants of their cause? it strikes a sliver of resentment within him, knowing that the last few years of blackfeather's existence had been nothing more than a desperate attempt at survival rather than a flourishing enterprise as many before them had likely envisioned. it seemed the trials of time were no friend to any of them, least of all him.