Haunted Wood the hell in your eyes

A few seconds go by and nothing happens. The bird doesn’t even look her way and, maybe, she’s imagined all this so far. Or it is one of the former commanders in another form, trying to talk to her. She tightens her jaw a little bit when the bird croaks, then speaks something not so garbled to her ears. Her mouth is about to open to say something, to ask for clarification—despite knowing a prophecy is never meant to be explained—and she sucks in a breath instead as the creature takes flight. Dark, steel eyes stare after the bird as it disappears, left to consider the words she’s been given.