Seaside Moors Kinloch Hold

i am Rusty pls forgive

Perhaps conjured from the endless shadows knit by the towering woodland to the west, the woman appeared from the darkness with a careless toss of her raven fur, as if shaking the last of the gloom from her coat. Blinking against the gilded onslaught of morning light, Adaia slowed. Slowly, the scents and sounds previously shielded by the forest at her back flooded in. The myriad of pack-scent, the hint of ocean-salt, the tiny shuffles and distant shrieks — suddenly, she felt alive. Not so like the spectre she had imagined herself to be, all those nights spent alone and without hope. The change was startling, and welcomed.
I should stay here — the thought wasn't surprising, yet she felt a spark of shock ripple through her. It felt so strange to want again; unsafe. Yet the wild-furred wolf inched forward, a summoning howl on her lips before she could give it more thought. Adaia had never been a woman to wait around wanting when her prize lay before her.