Greatwater Lake she was afraid of dreadful prophecies

he returns, flowers in hand, a thankful glance is all she is able to offer before ingesting what she can from the loot. a bitter, unwelcoming taste unlike the savory meal that had caused her injury and the girl finds a certian irony in that. as she settles upon her haunches, urias inquires upon a subject she had considered herself.

not revealing the true extent of what she knew to answer his question in full, if it is still standing, there is only one i know of. the girl returns with slight apprehension.

but one not many would want to pledge their allegiance to. blackfeather woods had a long, long history of violence with a rap sheet of enemies longer than anyone could keep track of. trouble did not escape the dark woods; for as ominous as it was, cursed was a more suitable description. or so her father had said.

scylla herself had not been alive to witness the majority of its bloody chronicles but had been told enough to know that an easy life was not guarenteed under the shadowy canopy of the dark woods.

a pack... is that what you are looking for? her head tilts curiously in his direction. scylla could not say she was searching for the same. if such an opportunity presented itself perhaps, but she had not known a true pack dynamic beyond that of her family. the idea of being obligated to oblige others she did not know, or even risk her life for the hide of someone who was not her own kin did not sound desireable in the slightest.