Blackfeather Woods come home late

hoping to put this towards a mercenary trade

Despite the new title she wore, she did not feel very different — save for the heavy feeling of doubt in her chest that settled in when she thought too long. Her presence on the borders had always been typical, she found comfort on them, and so it should have been no surprise she still lingered there prominently. Although one would figure that perhaps it was expected even more now.

As the sun began to settle and the forest seemed to darken into inky blotches of shadows, she slowly worked her way around the border. Faded scent markers were worked over with new markers to reinforce the borders that guarded Blackfeather and its residents.

The Morta was keen to repeat this ritual all night.