Ravensblood Forest The white owl in the belfry sits.

It took Raleska's calmed words to make Stryx realize how she'd sounded, how sharp and defensive she had become in that moment, and her own expression softened. The hazy memories of her youth surfaced then, and she watched the ripples in the pool as they distorted her reflection - the mud dissipating within, like a scrying pool. Where do you live now? she asked.

Wherever. I have not pledged myself to any group for... months, years, I lost track. Her shoulders rose slightly as she sighed, trying to banish the faces of those crones from her mind, the memory of their judgmental voices. It was the past, it did not matter. It shaped her, but it was no longer important - or so her mental mantra went. I try to share my knowledge where I can. Either through helping others like yourself, or by teaching. It isn't much of a life, but I enjoy the freedom.