Blackfeather Woods nyctophilia

At first, she thought she was hallucinating creatures in the swamp. Upon further examination, the charred thing ahead was, in fact, a wolf—not a piece of firewood far from the blaze. A wolf in poor shape, though. Maegi was too aware of her own deformities to stare; she gave the woman a once-over before padding her way, sidling expertly through the swamp she knew better than herself.

Who are you? she demanded softly, inhaling and finding Moonshadow's familiar scent layered over the patchy pelt. That was something, at least. She trusted the dark woman enough to make good judgment calls; hopefully, nothing would happen to jeopardize that faith. A friend of Moonshadow's? Did she invite you to stay?