Ravensblood Forest The white owl in the belfry sits.

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During her vigil upon the Sound, Stryx grew restless. She was not accustomed to being cooped up anywhere for long periods of time and she did not particularly enjoy it; and with the patient stable, she felt she could give the little family some space. Stryx could have told Kaertok where she was going, but she didn't have anything specific in mind; so instead she muttered something along the lines of, Going to stretch my legs, maybe I'll find something medicinal to help her, and dispersed.

Stryx climbed to the top of the rise and cut through the forest. From there the fields beckoned, and as she crossed among their grasses she thought she smelled something foul. As she followed her nose Stryx came across a drag trail in the grass, and it led towards the cliffs to the west. Her curiosity was piqued. She cast a glance towards the coast and weighed the dangers of investigating, then set off again.

Something had been deposited in the grass and left to rot. A scavenger of some kind must have picked up on the scent in the days following, grabbed it, and taken it away—for there was no strange object to be found, only a continued trail that Stryx doggedly traced. Up the rise, across the plateau, then down in to the thick forest.

It was here that she made her discovery: a tattered bundle of once-flesh, torn to shreds. The remains of what she presumed was a fetus, lingering inside. There wasn't much left; the grisly sight turned her stomach immediately. The soil around the bundle was well marked, she noticed—perhaps a raccoon or a badger had come across it and decided to dispose of the remains while enjoying the caloric value.

A deep sigh expresses Stryx's silent empathy for the mother back at the grotto, but she sets to work again: digging in to the soil at the base of the trees, fashioning a grave that would be deep enough not to attract further disturbance.