Bearclaw Valley Jakt

Inkeri had moved from her sister's side, but she wasn't far. Never far. Always within shouting distance was her @Anja. She heard the caw of the raven and stared with green eyes at the beast. It was a black one, like her father, like the one who condemned them, who had soured and poisoned their mother's womb. At least that was what her grandfather had said, the other pack mates.

She tilted her head as it fell upon a white she wolf, a femme that could be related to their pack maybe? Perhaps not. There were so many now, so many tree branches out. One, then two, now more. Some like them bastards, cursed, broken.

Inkeri stayed further away, just because she didn't know this wolf, did not mean she didn't know Inkeri or Anja and what they were, what they had been. Her eyes flitted back to the black raven, and she felt part of her soul aching towards the black, the other part rebelled against...no she was a Kvitravn, not a Svartraven, no matter the blood that stirred her father's body. Long dead, gone. Death to the unfaithful.