Ravensblood Forest only a fool would make martyrs from heathens

@Donovan Azura

From the fields to the forest Donovan had described was not a long journey. Renard followed the edge of the mountains down and over the coast, and from there it didn’t take long for the rock to vanish and for fields to turn to forest; a very interesting sort of forest, at that.

Renard had not been somewhere before where the trees were quite so tall; they towered, and maybe it was a child’s game to be surprised they weren’t touching the clouds, but nonetheless, the wolfdog was almost surprised to see them glide by above, unharmed.

Nor had they been somewhere where the trees looked like they bled.
They’d been keeping an eye out, yeah, but they didn’t expect to actually see it. Deep red lines like dripping blood clinging to the rust-red bark of the first tree they approached, but at least face to face it was much easier to scent the air and tell that, yes, it was nothing other than sap.

A bit disappointing, though they hadn’t actually been expecting blood. Visually impressive, without a doubt. More importantly, the breath they had taken indicated more than sap on tree trunks; it was clear Donovan had recently been by. Not the strength of a full pack, but unmistakable nonetheless.

A quick look around, some brief familiarity with the terrain, and Renard tipped back their head and howled. No sense keeping him waiting for long.