Verdigris Ravine Revenant

Candle grimaced at the bitter taste of the plant, tongue swiping over her muzzle several times to banish it from her mouth. Yet it lingered and burned, and the priestess was unsettled. She too stepped away from the vines.

When Zoug asked if S'ari knew, she shrugged. Again she carved into the dirt the symbol for evil. Bad, She told him, pointing to the symbol and then to the vines. Dark magic.

And there was only one thing to be done for it.

She began to dig furiously, making a deep hole in the ground to deposit the vines. Whether Zoug aided her in the effort or not, Candle moved without waiting to push the vines into the hole. She covered them quickly and began to mark the dirt around them in intricate runes of protection; a ward.

Finally she lifted a foreleg to her mouth and tore a wound into her own flesh, scattering blood over the symbols. The ward would be bound to her, to her life-force. In this way Candle meant to protect The Tribe.

But she was afraid; unsure that she was strong enough for this burden. Candle had always been the least among her sisters. How could she hope now to step into the role of protector?