Deepwood Weald silver light,

Dominika was sure she was lost. She had been wandering around in this forest for what felt like hours. Moving in a straight line was sometimes difficult because of the trees, and she was sure she had gotten turned around at some point. She supposed it wasn’t all bad. If she was going to get lost, a forest was okay place in which to do so. Forests provided shelter from the worst of the weather, and an abundance of food and water. Besides, she thought to herself, one had to have a destination in mind in order to be truly lost. Since she had nowhere to go, then there was no need to worry about being lost.

The most annoying thing at the moment was the rain, which had started long before she had entered this forest and showed no signs of slowing up. Summer rainstorms were fairly common, though, at least where she had come from, so the rain, too, was nothing to worry about. She meandered about, vaguely annoyed by the entire situation—and a wolf materialized out the gloom.

The rain had masked the scent of the canine, and Dominika stopped short, raising her head and standing tall, but otherwise attempting to remain non-threatening. “Hail,” she called, in case the woman had not noticed her. She didn’t need an angry, threatened wolf to go on the attack for scaring her.