The Bracken Woods it don't matter if the cold wind blows

anja's gaze, normally so bitter and unyielding, softened as it fell on her sister. inkeri represented all that the bloodseer saw in their future. she was the middle ground. the black raven and the white raven, joined as one.
if only the others could see it.
i see what i have always seen, the seer was seldom less than infuriatingly cryptic. after a moment, however, she allowed; the visions are more frequent now. we are close.
she reached out to nose her sister's cheek, a gesture of comfort.
we will find a new home, ink, i promise you. we will unite the black raven and the white raven.