Blackfeather Woods lavender

the beaten vision before her, a rough caricature of a wolf, instilled great terror in astara. it was mostly the eyes that did the child's bravery in -- without rounded pupils and the bright gleam of iris and pulp. two vacant, staring holes that innately the girl knew were wrong to have been absent.

her heart beat in her chest rapidly as she watched the she-wolf's mouth open -- as if to say something, yet nothing came. and then she fell closer to the ground, as if pushed by some unseen hand. astara had no words for the intensity in which she detested the she-wolf's missing eyes, she was only aware of being incredibly uncomfortable with beholding their empty sockets.

not even the stirring of the brutally battered woman's tail could have elicited a friendly reaction from the girl -- she choked, another low whimper uttered from her throat as she stared wide-eyed at the woman.