Sawtooth Spire Step into your power.

she draws to a slow at the rather understandable display of defensive aggression and it takes a great deal of effort to stop her own instinctive response. alas desperation bats back at instinct and bristling furs fall flat as muscles relax, she cannot risk jeopardizing this. it's only now with a few /painfully/ slower steps, fighting against the agitation prickling under her skin that she spots the pale form of andraste and starts with a twitch of her ears. all she can afford to do is blink at the scarred woman's presence, hoping it's enough of an acknowledgement before refocusing on the boy. 

she finally stops, inhaling uncertainly as the skies continue to launch their woes at them. yet her sodden pelt and chilled bones have no impact on the woman, she could be bone dry and under a blistering sun and she'd feel no different. all she can focus on is the budding unease as she looks upon the dark boy with his pale eyes, a stark contrast to she with her muted pelt and darkened gaze. what now? 

she doesn't know. itchingly aware of andraste's presence, she rolls back her shoulders and tastes the air. it lingers, the scent of home and her very being aches. yet it's fainter than it should be and he's obviously not within the woods; had something happened? in the end the only way she can sum up all of the emotions clambering over themselves to form this incoherent roar is to let out a softly exhaled; "blackfeather...?"