Ravensblood Forest everything that kills me makes me feel alive

'Don't go to Ravensblood forest' was of course something that the aspiring scout didn't take to heart. As a matter of fact, she'd never even considered going to this dumb ole' forest until just when she heard that news. It only made her all the more curious, and in the end she couldn't help herself. She had to go check it out for herself.

Spica told only @Syrma where she'd go (and invited her sibling along, should she be interested, of course -- an open invitation, with just a liiitle bit of wot, are you scared you chicken-ing if Syrma would decline) and set out early in the morning towards the forest. She hadn't visited it before, but she had seen it when she had climbed the nearby Plateau and knew it wasn't too far off from their lands. She also knew that it was dangerous and these Saints of the Dying Light were apparently pretty bad. But Spica liked to figure things out for herself and she thrived on danger (even if, y'know, she hadn't actually known real, proper danger in her life). She vividly remembered the angry wolf in the Glen who thought the world belonged to her, and there was something about the raising of your heartbeat and the thrill of not knowing whether you might get violently chased that spoke to Spica.

Besides, she was pretty arrogantly confident about her dashing skills, so Spica figured she could always just, y'know, run away.

As she approached the forest, Spica stayed at its outskirts. She might be adventurous and looking for a thrill, but she definitely wasn't an idiot. She sniffed the outskirts of the woods, trying to figure out if she could decipher pack scents -- from these Saints, maybe? -- or anything else out of the ordinary.

At the borders/outskirts.

Gerra, if you want to join in with Syrma, feel free to, but I left it open whether or not Syrma had come along :)