Deepwood Weald we sip the wind through lips alive

something jabbed irritatingly at her, with a furrow of her brow she snaked her head around. a moment of investigation at her shoulder revealed a needle that had wormed its way into her thick fur. she paused in her step, gaze scouring the canopy. there would be north, surely, and she'd entered from the east. she could continue her path south-west without any idea of where the wood ended, or retrace her muddied trail only to find the woods thinned out not too far from where she stood. 

she huffed even as another presence made itself known; twisting, the huntress caught him in her vision. "depends," she called back, scanning what she could of the pelt; his rear seemed mostly obscured by what lay between them. "how big is this place?"