Bearclaw Valley Why is the raven like a writing desk?

@Sequoia, @Witch and @Heda seemed particularly preoccupied lately. Often, Druid found herself left to her own devices. She felt lonely at times, though she managed to keep busy too. Still a little sour over her encounter with @Indra III, she spent more and more time just outside Rivenwood, favoring exploration over her own pack mates.

This Christmas morning, she suddenly remembered the hollow she’d spotted to the south. The sprightly Mäher loped along the winding course of the Mudminnow until she reached the spot where she and her mother had turned back last time. She lingered only a moment before trotting forward with a deliberate step, keen to discover the forest’s secrets.

Lost Creek Hollow was too similar to her homeland to capture her attention for long, as was the deep glade right next door. When she saw the stony palisades just beyond, Druid clicked her tongue and nearly turned away. She wanted to explore someplace that didn’t immediately resemble the bypass where she lived.

Though the day grew short and she should hurry home, something stilled the young woman. Druid pointed her muzzle back toward the valley’s entrance and found herself padding forward, proceeding cautiously even as the air went from cool to cold, from dim to dark.

Druid didn’t see or hear anything ahead in the darkness. The air was so still due to the rocky ramparts, she didn’t smell anything, either. But she sensed something out there in the deep December night.