Haunted Wood don't fall asleep at the helm

Takes place in the birch tree section of Haunted Wood. No need to match length, this is just Zsu's introductory post on WOLF.

It was warmer than normal this time of year. Migrating northbound in her travels, the Mackenzie stuck close to the snaking body of water slithering up through the land. It had been nothing but flat land and no overhead cover for miles until encountering a patch of forest territory that proved to be a shady refuge from the balmy heat of the day. It was highly unusual for Zsuzsa to be voyaging midday, considering how acclimated she was to mold into a mere phantom of the shadows herself during the still of the night. Desperate times call for desperate measures as they say, and in the southern unexplored outskirts beyond the Teekon Wilds there was a dry spell not only with the weather but with a selection of prey.
 
Pronghorn dominated the southern moorland of the Teekon outskirts and Zsuzsa managed to languidly tread after a pronghorn female and what looked like a matured fawn on the cusp of its adulthood that broke away from their herd. The female looked older, slightly emaciated most likely due to the drought drying up their grazing sources. Her fawn displayed similar scraggly anatomy but didn’t appear as malnourished. For the slim pickings of what could be caught from martens and weasels that were typical on the menu for a lone female wolf, the pronghorn would be a rare delight to behold. If the Mackenzie could snag this, it would give her some much needed time off from her exhaustive travels.
 
With the pair vanishing into the trees, there was a millisecond of a pause from Zsuzsa before entering the thicket of the forest. Something about this forest seemed… off. Zsuzsa couldn’t put her paw on what evoked such a feeling, but it felt even in the midst of the day, an invisible presence watched from beyond. That was partially true, given a raven had been surveilling her this whole time from above and kept itself tucked up in the canopy. Lightly snorting, she trudged on. The pronghorns hastened their pace, causing Zsuzsa to break into a lope. There was a particular congested patch of birch and shrubs Zsuzsa had to weave through (temporarily losing sight of the pair) but once out of that midst, she was led to the muddy banks of the river.
 
And the pronghorn pair all of a sudden weren’t anywhere to be found.
 
Save for the melodious rush of the river, an unanticipated dead blanket of stillness blanketed the area with heavy energy. Zsuzsa’s hackles raised. Coming to a dead stop, ears perked, and silver eyes roamed the area. Her nostrils flared, only smelling the heated dampness of the forest, losing the trail of the pronghorn. The raven perched on a branch above, its cold eyes staring intently at Zsuzsa. Glancing up and sniffing at the bird, this off-putting feeling wasn’t the omen of the raven itself. There was something else bizarre here. Approaching the bank of the river, Zsuzsa saw her turbid reflection and took the opportunity to satiate her thirst. As if the heat of the day wasn’t weighty enough, this unexpected stillness was battling in competition with it. She drank with cautious laps.