Raven's Watch sleeping with the birds

Barks, sharp and strident, summoned the man with a ritual as old as time, a warning to keep the demons at bay. From the shadows of the treeline, gold-crested cream melted to stand aside the blíður álfur, never too far from the blossom when she wandered. His ward was well-tended and this matter was to be no different, hackles rippling up to spike along his spine.

Stjornuati stepped forward, once, on a stiff leg, eyes of strung intestines narrowed and menacing. A threat borne by a yellowed glint of tooth, he eyes the bonewhite woman without recognition. Many a wolf wore colors such as she, though few were so brave to climb their peak with the presence of their scent heavy 'round the base of the peak.