Deepwood Weald do you ever feel like a plastic bag?

Sialuk did not balk at the forward nature of the dark woman, and she invited her into her space with ease. There were no strong scents of others upon her, no pack to call her own, Sialuk gathered.

Magpie. A fitting name for such a beautiful creature. And Sialuk laughed freely at the observation, reminded of Bridget and her humorous words. You are found by Sialuk, she said, a glimmer in her gaze, a teasing smile to match.