Firefly Glen [BWH] chemically calm

There was movement in the valley. Scores of men and women walked here, perhaps marched here, and Boreasz was thrilled by his own curiosity. He thought it could be an army passing through—and where there was an army, there were captains, and captains could always use more recruits. A little work would go a long way in keeping him sane after so much lonesome travel. There was always the chance of a meal or a fuck, too. He was hungry for both, should his luck hold out.

Having found a few of the carcasses crowded by crows and otherwise abandoned, he had done the suitable thing and rolled in some of the remains, collecting the scents so that he could blend in. From time to time on his own hunt Boreasz came across markings by these hunters, and he rolled in those too. By the time his path crossed through their many layered scents, he resembled one of them enough to be ignored—at least, scent-wise. It was a good trick for getting behind enemy lines.

He wasn't sure yet if these were friends or foes, and either way, Boreasz wanted to learn more. As his luck continued to hold true, he came stalking through the glen in time to see a dark, supine shape—a woman, he estimated. Boreasz did not immediately approached, keeping his body rigid and his eyes alert, as if he were only passing through on a patrol—nothing to see here.