Deepwood Weald tell me, how does it feel?

Themis set her sights on her goal now. Slowly, she was making her border markings stable, pushing her scent into the bark of trees, of the dirt and grass and bush around the Weald.

Today, however, was not to mark. It was to walk, to see.

To catch interest, if she could find it.

She moved, in the open for once, despite how her skin crawled to do so.