Haunted Wood my lost fearless leader

What's this...

Sheltered beneath the canopy of woods, Menthe found comfort in being able to conceal herself amongst the dappled shadows. She was a coastal girl in her heart, one with the salt and the waves, but the forests that lined the coast brought a mystery like no other. Her swift steps outmatched the bulky here, where their meaty, clumsy paws snapped twigs and crunched leaves. Safely hidden among the leaves, she bravely recounted all of the eavesdropping she had done in the woods near her birthplace -- where others thought they were being stealthy. Morons! Speaking so freely as she collected secret after secret -- piles of blackmail. Her memory gingerly steps over the heartbreak she felt at her own selfish spying, thinking only of the upperhand she had gained amongst the other yearlings in the pack. 

Memories of youth fell to the back as she peered quietly down at a pile of stones. They felt... unnatural. Smooth, like those found at the bottom of rivers, stacked one on top of the other in a tower of 8. She sniffed it cautiously from a few inches away, noting how fragile the structure was. How anyone with paws managed this was a mystery, though she inwardly sneered that she probably had the patience and grace to stack them with her muzzle. A smirk quirked her maw with this thought. 

And then! A realization! An alter! Of course. To a wolf raised amongst the same, the thought that other religions or beliefs existed... well, what a foreign concept. Surely, this was crafted so lovingly to pay homage to one of her Gods. She intended to do the same. 

The nymph settled carefully before it, making deliberate movements as not to disturb the alter. She sat back on her haunches and slid down to her elbows, left paw crossing over the right. Her muzzle dipped, crown tilted towards the stones as she paid her physical respects to it. She, of course, had no wordly possessions to give, but she sat amongst the trees and spoke freely into the silence of the dark woods. 

Aphrodite, She spoke, clearly and with poise, I can only imagine that someone constructed something so perfect and awe-bringing in your honor. And she believed it to be true, too! Aphrodite was Menthe's chosen worship, most days than not. If the Goddess of Beauty was so kind to build the fae in her own image, then Menthe was forever grateful. And, Hermes too, sure, but Menthe was fewer and far between with her gifts to the God. 

She paused, briefly, thinking carefully about what she wanted to say. I am grateful you have shrouded me in your veil, I have reached these woods safely. I can feel it... the end of my journey. To say such a thing suddenly felt out-of-body -- did she mean that? She certainly acknowledged all of life that she felt (and smelled) in these new wilds, but could this be the end? Oh, it must be obvious. But my confidence in from you, isn't it? You believe my purpose lies amongst these lands? 

I have no authority to question your all-knowing, the nymph purred with a small smile and a shake of her head, Your wisdom is as great as your elegance, I will seek out my destination with grace.