Haunted Wood you are the rite of movement

she's aware of the wolf behind her, and yet does not turn. she squeezes her gaze shut, reaching for that confidence she wore so easily in blackfeather. she scrabbles, and finds instead a memory of her sire. hela, queen of hell. and of maegi, too, and the gods she hopes are not limited to blackfeather. 

she blinks her gaze open as the woman speaks, resolute. she twists back to regard the woman, seeing a face and demeanor that would not be out of place in blackfeather. "they'll get worst." she offers plainly, fixing the woman with a stare.