Blackfoot Forest Flykte

A pale raven appeared on the branches of the tree, preening at its feathers. Its pointed head lifted until its eyes met Eventyr. The wolf regarded the animal in reverent silence. This was a blessing. No matter the things that Eventyr had done, no matter the traditions she had cast aside, and the war she had defied. There was the pale feathered bird chattering to her in the tongue of the gods. It had smiled at her.

The other wolf’s voice roused Eventyr. There was no hostility that could be sensed in her words. The pale figure pulled her moon silver gaze from the raven to peer back to the dark one. Eventyr wondered what she was doing so far from their home. For, the white wolf had run from the consequences of her inaction, but she did not think that the same would be said for the woman who stood across from her.

Are there others? she asked the dark one. With you.