Blackfoot Forest Flykte

at some point, the raven had ceased attempts to appear disinterested, and openly stared at the pair, up until the white one - eventyr - moved to leave.

a bit of a disappointment, that this encounter didn't end in bloodshed.

the runner was a loner, shunned and tracked. more careful and quick. less likely to get in trouble.

a bore.

he cast a glance at the black - maiken, that one - and evaluated her instead.

a healer, an idealist, convinced of the sanctity of her profession. that could be intriguing.

but the stalking of his kvit self could cause needless problems.


he had a long moment of indecision, letting each head her way, then rose with flap of white wings.

it would take effort, yes, but it could be doable.

the raven circled long in the sky, watching where one wolf went while conscious of the other, and flew after the white one.