Shadewood death by a thousand cuts

Her intent had been to sweep along the shadowed forest that blanketed one side of the isle she sought to claim. Despite the singularity of her claim—spare for Argent, who was seeking others to join them further within the valleys—she did not sway from her purpose. The solitude allowed her to heal in ways the mountain never had—the flowing river that embraced the land granting a meditative solace with its rushing waters and birdsong.

She ached for her fallen mate. Even worse were the days she ached for his kill brother and the fiery embrace she craved from him. There was no guilt that had fallen her from her thoughts and desires—simply the knowledge that it could never be.

When she heard the voice, her slender form pivoted direction, exotic muzzle pointed to the decidedly male vocals that were alluring, even though the end of her season was upon her and she would no longer be fertile.

The intrigue and desire instilled by the male voice was dampened when she came upon the sorrowful scene—the itch she felt along her spine succumbing to the emanated grief, and she canted her muzzle, drawing forward gently. Maybe her presence was unwelcome—but the quiet of the world when alone told her to risk it—if even to offer her condolences and see if there was anything she could do for the wayward alabaster soldier.