Blackfeather Woods to conquer; to bleed

she moves easily among the trees, basking in the solitude. gaze rovers through the trees, once and again flicking behind her to ensure none have followed her here. she doubts it; the nightwalkers stick mostly to their borders. besides, if someone where to challenge her, they would make nothing less than a spectacle out of it, she was sure. she must be cautious now, while she still heals, her ugly wounds still raw and delicately scabbed over. it seems all too easy to break them, and it takes restraint not to chew at them. 

the threat of murder, however, proves a good enough deterrent. the warlord pauses as a raven wings overhead, seemingly fixated on her. it circles low over the canopy, a silent, feathered shadow, and then makes haste towards the north. 

@Lumiya