Porcupine Ridge Some prefaced with ZYR-OHT-OHT-MET

He found himself gripped with dread and fear over the last moon's time. So many gone from the Ridge without a word. He pleaded with the spirits for answers, for them to say something—and all he received in turn was silence.

Though, perhaps, silence was answer enough.

The dark man prowled the rendezvous site, every so often thinking of the cavernous maw nearby that led into the belly of the mountain. If he were to go within once more, would he find truth there?

Hex was seriously contemplating the notion when the pair of sisters emerged from the trees, the cursed one leading, the silent one trailing behind. He gave them both a nod of greeting, and was beginning to register the dried blood and scars upon Anathema's pelt when she lunged.

What—

Her teeth were set in his scruff, holding fast, and he was too stunned to react at first. Then, some semblance of life entered his limbs once more, and Hex squirmed and bucked, trying to loose her grasp.

Anathema, what are you doing?! he exclaimed, breath bursting into fog on cold air. Let me go!