Hushed Willows Put a spell on me

Some time had passed since he had a call from the fire-cloaked female that bore the title of systir, not since he had bound her to the woods of the Watch, a punishment that drew her chagrin and resentment in sharp colors. The weeks since then had been quiet and had he not scented her about the territory, Stjornuati might have believed her to run amok, to cause havoc for him and Solpallur in a time where they should have been coming together and learning to work alongside one another.

The snow-feathered raven perched upon his shoulder as occured so often now, the star eater answered the call of Valmua, arriving to her in mere minutes as he had been close to the borders in the first place. Dark eyes looked to her expectantly, ears pitching forward as @D'Artagnan shifted his weight and ruffled his feathers.