Blackfeather Woods only this & nothing more

there are whispers, in the wood. footfalls that carve out new trails he finds when he wakes, scents new and half-familiar. the dark wood could not stay empty; it was the way of things and yet the whispers were just that. nothing may come of them, and yet something could, and thus the Raven's desire to stay here was solidified. he had wandered; seen great battles and whispered in the ears of warlords, reaped reward for him and his kin when the battlefields lay abandoned. 

but his soul was carved and shaped here, and here he would return. 

he sat now near an alter long abandoned, white fragments that might have been shattered bone stabbing through the snow at its base. he did not face it but kept his back to the stone, gaze settled somewhere in the midst of the trees. there, he waited.