Blackfeather Woods what is the color of night?

She passed by a scapula which looked to have been pecked over by the birds of the wood; then, as she nudged what looked to be a bloodied mandible freshly presented next to this, she sniffed and inspected, but ultimately grew too bored to be inquisitive. Kotake swiftly stepped over the line of fetid debris and with a hastened pace, slipped through the dark. She thought she heard some birds take flight around her and slowed, eager to catch a glimpse, but the shifting figures among the branches were immutable by comparison. She saw the flicker of light-made-dark, then there was stillness - only the breath of the wind through the boughs. The whispering which she had come to appreciate.

The girl remained ignorant of her pursuer, or seemed so at the very least, as she watched the tenebris shroud her way. None of the paths smelled of her sister. None smelled of anything but death, a piecemeal effort by the Blackfeather wolves to mark their lands and dismay interlopers. It was not so dismaying to her. The scents were of home; death warmed over. She found a scattered mess of feathers at the base of some trees, and upon climbing over their tangled roots she saw an entire raven splayed out on its back. Its eyes were missing. Its wings were tatters, and the breastbone seemed to erupt from its core like an illicit blossom.

The girl mused over this, wondering if she should feel anything for the ruined thing besides a vague hunger - and at that moment she thought she felt eyes upon her. Without raising her gaze from the creature she murmured, How unfortunate, as if speaking to the bird; but anyone that knew Kotake and her habit of muteness would've known better. She only spoke when she absolutely had to. And indeed, how unfortunate that someone would follow after her of all people.