Ravensblood Forest hippity-hop, all the way to the birdie boiler

behind the litheboned coywolf the raven trailed, winging high in the butted welkin. he followed her often now, tracing her shadow with the creed of an vigilant sentry. his beaded eye slanted towards the shape reposed in a stand of trees, snooping about with purpose unknown to the bird. he could see clearly through the threadbare branches, so it was with suspicion shading his features that he watched his dog's approach of the stranger at the very cusp of a pine.