Haunted Wood thousand voices dead at my feet

she marks a fir, pressing her shoulder and side against the bark as she passes. "so I just need practice, then I'll know?" she confirms, considering simply walking beyond the borders and attempting to incite anything that breathes into a fight. it's stupid, she knows, but perhaps a little bit appealing. 

they walk on a while longer, and the crooked fir that usually marks the end of her patrol across this part of the border comes into sight. significantly less patient now, she instead veers away from the border and into the territory, seeking out the first open glade large enough to allow for a proper spar.