Blackfeather Woods is this a dagger

She stalked the borders with a lowered head, a silent spectre in the shadows. This place had changed, and yet, it stood still against the sands of time. The borders were still marked as they had been those many months ago, though notably, the scents of Nemesis and Damien were absent. They were replaced by those fresh and new, and she wondered if anyone would care or remember her. 

Perhaps it was boredom that drove her here, perhaps it was the sharp curiousity as to what had become of this place. Even as her own life had shifted dramatically, only to continue rather monotonously now, the woods stood still.

It was with a wariness that he regarded the stranger upon their borders. If he had ever known her then he did not remember. He watched from the shadows as she stalked along the borders, ragged ears folding back and forward again until eventually he stepped from the shadows. He wondered what she was doing here, what she wanted.

He did not speak when he stepped forward, merely stood, body language neutral as his mismatched eyes fell upon her inquiringly. He was no one of note here, now, and did not really care for anything but a handful of wolves, much less himself, so did not care to greet her in the way a leader might.