Blackfeather Woods Like summer storms, the skies as grey as leaves.

She wondered if perhaps he was a ghost.

So powerful in these woods, the stance of a man with a claim. Yet she did not feel threatened by his stance. The rumbling of him proved such a feeling and she felt her own kind of power.

She rumbled an invitation back to him and padded a few steps away, before she tossed a look over slim shoulder. She wished to lead him somewhere prettier. A place of flowers, long since overgrown with no skilled wolves tending to them.

Somewhere the air may not be so thick.