Blackfoot Forest i wear skulls and bones

Back-dated before the current role call, and probably a week or so after she was accepted (mid-October?).

The femur was such a part of Zombie's identity that she often forgot she carried it with her, delicately in her jaws. In the time she had it, it had worn away where it rubbed at her teeth—the grooves that had formed allowed it to fit so comfortably that she hardly had to tighten her grip to ensure it remained safely in place. As she prowled through the forest Bon Dye had claimed as its own, a tender but healing wound on a foreleg caused her to limp slightly.

She didn't know much about the pack she had pledged her life to with blood, though she knew it had something to do about light and darkness... and there were wolves here that intrigued her, closely linked to death. Jinx had saved her from giving into the darkness and unknown, but having lived most of her life on the brink of death—Zombie wondered if it were possible to make the unknown known. Although she hadn't yet been brave enough to seek tutelage from the wolves that seemed to walk in both worlds, she intended to someday.

That is, if they hadn't all disappeared into thin air. Her brows narrowed, and the grip she had on the femur tightened slightly—she had been walking through the trees for a while, now, and oddly hadn't crossed paths with any of her pack mates...