Bramblepoint Lost in the bramble

It all started with an innocent departure to get to know the bordering lands around Blackfeather Woods. Akari had woken up with the sunrise: she went to the forest's outskirts to contemplate the view of the plains. She sat and seen the tender grass warming with the sun, and after a while, she decided it was the perfect day to explore the world a bit.
The scent of berries was scattered throughout the plains. A beautiful sight where the blood-red fruits stood out in the green. She nibbled some of them, keeping an eye on the big brown bears feasting nearby.
But, as expected of a fisherwoman, she unconsciously began following masses of moist air towards near water sources: they made her cross the meadows until she found a lake: the final resting spot of the streams flowing from Northeast, whose waters were teeming with salmon and trout. 
She was radiant by the discovery! She even marked the place. But fishing is an activity requiring time, patience, and luck. And apparently, luck wasn't on her side that day: time passed in a rush, and soon the dusk had cast its dim, cold light over the lake's surface... And she had only managed to fish an average-sized trout. Her stomach kept growling, so she tried again. 
But the carcass started being noticed by the scavengers of Wild Berry Meadow: especially the bears, who would follow the slightest hint of a meal, taking advantage of the last few hours of daylight. Akari knew she had to leave.
Padding quickly, she decided to enter the nearby forests of Bramblepoint to spend the night. What she didn't know is that what expected her past the first mile of tree covering was a maze where she would be destined to lose herself within.

The first few days were rough: days when she had not found the slightest hint of wolves nearby; when her howls died in the quietude of the evening without an answer. But time rushed: days became weeks, and the wolf moved on. Her ties to Blackfeather faded over time, but thinking about the pack would make her heart sink, even today: she was aware that she had failed them. And now she is paying the price.

The delicate and frail bloom

It was an omen of its own doom

Petals fall, its thorns harden,

There is one less flower in the garden

The rose withered and died

But I doubt the crows had cried

Bramblepoint became a curious place: although it was a maze of vegetation designed to disorient those who pass through it, it was also a place of abundance: with lots to scavenge, lush covering to hide from danger (or to ambush unwary prey), and freshwater running from every crack in the stone. The birds were rare to spot, but their songs were omnipresent: she could hear their symphonies every day, and she even learned to recognize some of them.
As she explores the forest, she knew she would eventually find her way out of there: she only didn't know when. Maybe she was still looking for a way out... Or burying the shame, waiting for a time where she feels worthy of a pack once more... 
Who knows?

This is the place where I ramble

The ochre shades of the bramble

For my mistake, I must atone

And walk these trails alone

I’m a lone wolf once again

With no pack, no home, no goods

Only the melody of a lonely wren

As I seek a way out of these woods