Haunted Wood let me underneath your skin

it in interest that leaders her to the borders, where the scent of Vengeance and to the barely-discernable one of Abbadon line the borders. there are others besides, but it is only these two she's been searching for. she follows the scents for a quester mile before pausing, peering once into the territory and making an easy choice. reclining on her haunches, the woman settles for an air of feigned comfort (she is, truly, all too clear on what type of wolves dwell here) and tilts back her crown, issuing a call for an audience.