Mudminnow River feelin’ kinda sunday

witch's own venture beyond the borders had been largely uneventful, and she had listened with wide and worried eyes as druid had told her the tale. the pale child understood the danger, but for the first time she felt a pang of jealousy— she wanted to find the stories and bring them back to rivenwood. that her sister had returned home safe was ultimately what mattered, and so witch had spent the night close at her side, vowing to never again let druid face such danger alone.

so, when signs of druid's movements through rivenwood drew nearer and nearer to the borders, witch's determination to catch up and find her grew. her speed increased, a thumping in her heart, until her salt-and-pepper sister's scent was carried on the wind. the metallic taste of dread did not accompany it, and so the pale witchling relaxed as she approached to quietly settle at her sister's side.

she could smell the geese, too, and though witch did not consider herself a hunter, she wanted to kill with her sister as she had with heda— to dance beneath falling feathers. to perhaps bring home a head to join the wing as yet another trophy.