Ravensblood Forest Wer um die Göttin freit, suche in ihr nicht das Weib

far above, something follows the shadow below. among great monoliths she walks, made small in this wood. the trees bleed, and now and again she noses at the hardened sap that drips there. the rolling calls of ravens are common here, a familiar comfort. König der Raben; er nahm ihre Augen und setzte sie in seinen Schädel. whispered tales, almost forgotten, now. 

she walks the edges of the wood, quiet and made dim by the long shadows cast by the surrounding peaks. pain lances suddenly through her paw, breath leaves her nostrils sharply. an examination reveals something slim and pale, and she works to seize the gently curving object betwixt her fangs.

@Donovan Azura ?