Blackfeather Woods breeding lilacs out of the dead land

Caligula's trail had grown faint until now. 

Tiberia had skulked the fringes of the woods, not keen to penetrate their depths until she was certain he was here. And he was, unfortunately. His scent thick and clammy and tinged with something metallic - or perhaps that was the trees.

Disgust clung to her body as the shadows did her legs. They seemed to watch her as she passed, wetting her nose as she followed his most recent path.

And there he was, red roses like bloodspots against his nightfur. A relief it was to see him alive and well despite the desolate location.

"Hey, squirt," she cleared her throat in an attempt to conceal her unease. "You pickin' flowers for your boyfriend?"