Blackfeather Woods want my friend, want my heart’s mend

a dark figure well out of blackfeather's collapsed kingdom roamed, the bladed red of his backside catching astara's eyes. the nightcub shifted upwards with a growl, her tail flicking assertively over her thin hips.

he was not yet defying blackfeather's faded claim -- and the girl saw no reason to challenge him in the open.

all the same she watched him hawkishly, a mistrustful glaze to her narrowed eyes -- a sliver of her teeth visible by the subtle lift of a blackened lip.