Ravensblood Forest dead man's chest

making some assumptions on Worm's captive-esque role in the pack, just lmk if i should edit!

She had not been without eyes on her since she'd taken up residence among the coast wolves, not that she'd expected otherwise, but the distrust in each stare tickled something in her. She met each stare with an intense one of her own each time, seeing how much she could rattle some of them with just those ghostly silver peepers of hers. It was a funny enough way to pass the time while she waited for the raid.

What sort of distraction would she be? Worm laid on her side, fidgeting with a small bone between her forepaws while she thought of it, running different scenarios over and over; in this tightrope-walking act, she felt alive. There was few other things that gave her such a rush.

No longer was she motivated by survival. It had been a while since then. Her motivations now were merely self-satisfying. What fun she could reap before she was returned to the dirt, or perhaps the sea.

When the captain's call ripped through the air, she pulled herself from her thoughts, rounded, coyish ears attuned to the pitch. The vermin would waste little time in slinking into the shadows, moulding them to herself; her pace was quick, her steps light. Her arrival was announced by the intentional shifting of bramble, from which she crept out and settled near Meredith.

So they would kill something today. The scent of rot already hung heavy in the wind.