Sun Mote Copse and when you asked for light, i set myself on fire

figured this would be a good place considering its history..

quickly the she-wolf stole from redhawk, her thin limbs carrying her form ghost-like through fen and bramble. it had been sunset when she slipped from the plateau's brink, the red disc of the sun setting behind her with its angry eye on the world in a simmering, deep red hue. the peaks in front of her rose like teeth against the horizon, rimed in a red blood that sunk slowly to formless grey.

she missed the coast. her limbs were tired of rock and stone, land and stagnant air. she missed the ceaseless hum of the sea besides her, the groan of the tide, and the rotting suck of tidewater through the grotto.

svalinn and raleska might not ever know the ocean as she did, but it ran in their blood the same as it ran in hers; only, she had drunk deep of the sea's blood as well, and it now carried through her as undeniable as the rise of a frothy tide.

nightfall was at its zenith when she reached sun-mote; a tiny copse she knew neither the name nor the history of. perhaps if she had known of the bloodbath to happen here -- or the children that had been sacrificed here, their wilting skeletons buried mere feet beneath her paws with their skulls crushed and all anguish long-since departed -- perhaps she would have avoided the area entirely.

as it was, the siren queen knew not, and carried on through the brooding forest with restlessness vigorously chasing her.