Blackfoot Forest there is nothing you can say to her,

sheaths of mist passed between them. astara watched zephyr's form briefly dissolve, and materialize again. her heart quickened, expecting the wraith to steal ground between them by the temporary cover.

yet zephyr was as still as she, save for the growl that spilled from a silver-adorned throat.

astara's ears rotated forward; confident, assertive. the waif might have been more than scrappy in their last encounter, but astara was unflinching when it came to a second conflict -- if need be.

yet she did not move. instead of a growl, a hateful stare accompanied her aggressive body language. her eyes hardened as her fangs were bared in response.