Hideaway Strath salt, sweat, sugar on the asphalt

Nice to be rping with you again! :)

Endlessly be strode through the darkness of night. His black coat swallowing him up in the shadows in manner of which he would forever and always prefer. As a man with eyes seemingly only made to adapt to the glow of the moon above. But it would seem even the moon's light would be held hostage,  dark clouds thickening in the skies. 

There is a flutter of wings and Hemlocke looks upwards to the canopy, a single raven out among the night. It is he which brings the thinman's attention to the woman at the tree's base, digging out a hollow for herself, be it for a cache or den. Maybe even our of boredom. He watches as the quiet creeper he always were, observing, sniffing. She held Donovan's scent on her which led him aware of her new prescene as a member to these woodlands. 

She was very tall, tall as Donovan and Nyra, tall as himself. Though did not hold the bulk of their leaders now were she as thin as himself. She harbored a lean figure of subtle, rounded curves of a dark amazon elegance. The hellhound was intrigued by the darkness she wore however, how she fit easily with the shadows- as himself, a man only ever and able to move amongst the night's watch.