Ravensblood Forest the tree who cried crimson

Derg nodded simply; Finley hadn’t expected much to start. She let silence fall over them for a time, still following the deer trail, the quiet interrupted only occasionally by the ravens above. It felt strange, being able to walk alongside a not-quite-stranger for no reason, no goal. Even stranger, Finley couldn’t say she disliked it. While she wouldn’t let herself completely trust Derg, not yet, she had to afford him more lenience as a packmate. And he’d prove himself with time, she was sure. Clearly, he was no stranger to a fight.

But eventually the unease of quiet overtook her. With some reluctance, Finley pressed for more: “Your attacker, the blonde woman—was this recent? Where was this?” She wouldn’t have minded a more thorough description, either, but given the severity of the wound and Derg’s plain description as-is, Finley assumed he hadn’t had time to identify the assailant in the midst of their fight.