The Bracken Woods A northern visitor

When words met her ears rather than a grumble of any kind, Kovette visibly relaxed. And with the short explanation, she realised that the shriek must have been the other wolf, rather than a rabbit. “They have been unkind to me, too,” she returned, referencing the thorns. Is there one stuck in her tongue...? she wondered, the peculiar speech pattern noticed. “Maybe it’s the common way here?” she asked aloud, quiet, a mere utterance to herself.

“I’m afraid not...” she answered next, a careful step forward accompanying her voice this time. “I have been searching for the end to this forest for... many days now, at least.” Come to think of it... exactly how much time had she spent in those woods already? Kovette thought back and attempted to count the transitions from day to night but, ultimately, couldn’t come up with a clear answer. After awhile, the days started to run together.

“Do you live near here?” asked the traveller, a hopeful lilt to her voice. “You asked about a... quicker?”—she paused for just a brief moment, in case she had misunderstood—“way out of here, so does that mean you know another way out?” Even if it was not necessarily quick, or anything close to less prickly, she couldn’t see herself minding too much. Any way out was better than no way out, and she was more than ready to be freed from the grip the forest had on her.