Blackfeather Woods Like summer storms, the skies as grey as leaves.

The grand oak.

Jakoul knew it and it sunk her heart deep into the pit of her stomach. She prowled on the edges between the other trees, hoping to asses him further before either made a move.

Except with each prowling step she grew in closeness and soon enough visibility. She crept into the clearing with a movement and posture that was nearly feline in nature. Vulpine, perhaps.

The air prodded at her lungs with its weight.