Blackfeather Woods she's the giggle at a funeral

the ravens were not the only things marked by shadow. something large and dark lurked beyond zharille, moving in her periphery; it was not loud enough to draw her eye but she felt a presence nonetheless, and the fur at the nape of her neck began to bristle.

when finally she came to an impasse (a large tree which had fallen many years ago by the looks of it, moss-choked and rotted in equal parts) she had to stop. the sound of movement finally caught in her ears, and she boofed a curious sound without thinking. her nose wiggled as she tasted the air, and only found the scent of dust (which was odd here, in this place replete with tall trees and piled snow).

her twin-sun gaze met that of two-moons, and she startled back a step.