Haunted Wood you are the rite of movement

to suddenly find herself on the bottom of the hierarchy, stripped away of all things familiar and comforting, is unnerving. here, she is nobody; without her sister, she is nobody. she's severely lacking in the pure confidence that had her go after the other pups of blackfeather, and there are two empty spaces by her side. 

she hasn't slept, not yet. every time she closes her eyes, she sees her mothers, glazed over as they'd been, and knows she can't look into them, not yet. and so dusk finds her deep in the unfamiliar wood as another rumble shakes the ground; this one is barely felt, though lasts a long while. she's still as it moves through, gaze fixed on some point deeper within the wood.