Deepwood Weald monachus

some steps were harder than others. it wasn't for sulukinak's lack of athleticism—she climbed upon knotty roots and gripped the mossy surfaces with great diligence—but sometimes her steps sank in to the moss to a degree she wasn't expecting, as if the forest swallowed up a paw; or she'd pivot her ankle at such an angle that it would slip and she would scramble, scratching, like a cat on linoleum.

she would adapt. one day sulukinak would stride through these woods fully silent, as she did through snow or across ice. until then, she would practice.

but she was not alone in this.

something large trampled through the green. she could hear it, and soon enough she could see what appeared to be a bear-shaped creature, which in the dark loomed dangerously close to her own path; and swiftly enough she ducked around some trees and wedged herself among the roots, trying to flatten out and hide while keeping her eye-line free to watch.

the creature had a long tail—it grinned toothily, and what light caught in that liminal space among the density of forest made it's expression look somehow nefarious. sulukinak stared from her hiding place without making a sound.