Haunted Wood you are the rite of movement

"the ravens." she offered easily, blinking at the stranger. they'd been precursors for most of the quakes, and as they'd begun to worsen, the canopy had become emptier as the birds sought safety. their squabbling, too, had began to fade, the birds less interested in the war between them and moreso in the one the earth itself had promised. 

besides, "they won't just stop." they've already been getting worst, anyways. she worried for Scylla, but did not think she could find her way back if she wanted to - to her, blackfeather seemed much further than it really was. "who're you?"