Blackfeather Woods Welcome to the Underworld

She stood still, keen eyes watching the rodent as it roamed over the roots of a thick stump, long since worn down by weather and age. Her pale pelt ripple as she stepped forward gracefully, she was tense, like a racehorse waiting hor the trumpet to sound. Raccon, old and thin, but a meal none the less. It chattered quietly to itself, and the girl launches from the ground in a blur. Her teeth clamp around a tail, but too tight, her fangs pierce the thing and there is a release, a scream. The raccon is gone, up a tree, and the pale woman is holding a tail. Eyes aflame, she drops it and hisses lowly at her luck. She glances at the thing, pondering for a moment if it is edible, but no, for it is merely fur and scraps. 

She slides into a lope, ears pressed forward as she searches for her next meal, unaware that a great change has come over the pack, and not knowing what, if anything, it means for her. Her eyes are alert, cold like stars, and searching for something on which to wet her fangs.

The pack had changed hands from the old to the young, from the outsider to the Spiderling, and while it had, Potema hadn't noticed the new wolf who had entered their midst. A female, with pale fur and cold eyes that Potema approved of. They needed heartless killers now, no more weak women with mewling quims in their Brotherhood.

Potema approached the woman quietly as the pale female prepared to steal off to attempt another kill. Greetings. She called to her, announcing her present in a calm, clear voice.

Aeronwyn's eyes to turned the the pale figure of a girl approaching her now, eyes staying on the approaching figure and noticing the mottled paws, stained, and the red on her cheek. She spun on her heel with a fluid grace, noting how the wolfess's pelt was like a canvas, painted with colour here and there. She did not question this, believing that it may have something to do with the red paw the others bore. The tang of herbs was present, but faint, on this girl, and Althaia thought she may be a healer. She greeted her simply, and Aeronwyn did likewise, her sterling eyes not betraying even a flicker of emotion as she dipped her head in acknowledgment of the female, having learned from her challenge at the border. "Well met, ma'am" she replied in kind, noting for a moment her pale blue eyes. The femme had not asked for a name, and Aeronwyn did not give one, yet.

An assassin. She was definitely an assassin. The woman portrayed no emotion at her presence, only showing the motions of respect. Perfect. Just what they needed: someone cold and to the point. Potema smirked slightly, the corners of her mouth upturning. While the recent events that befell the pack were disheartening, she was glad to have something to look forward to in the upcoming weeks rather than months. She hoped this woman would stay, rather than stick to them until the famine had passed. My name is Potema, She introduced herself, wondering how the other pale woman would respond.

A smirk touched the girls face, for a moment Aeronwyn wondered at it. But she spoke again, introducing herself. Potema. Aeronwyn dipped her head slightly, acnoledging the name and commiting it to memory. Somehow, it suited the painted ghost. After a brief moment of silence, Aeronwyn thought she too should give her name. It seemed fitting, she could not simply stare at this girl in silence, could she? "Mine is Aeronwyn." she said evenly, adding on a moment later "A pleasure to make your acquiantence, Potema" Her tone was cool but respectfull. She was beginning to think that this pack was made up of those who bore upon them a pelt of shadow.

Potema turned the conversation towards hunting, gesturing towards the raccoon tail. How is the hunting? This wolf hadn't been here for long, but Potema wasn't much of a hunter compared to this wolf. Perhaps they could both fill the caches, and Cicero's stomach. The poor jester was still a walking skeleton, even moreso than she had ever seen before. Was that the only thing you've found so far?

She spoke of hunting, and after a moment Aeronwyn replied. "It is poor, but better. I have caught but this and a squirrel." She looked at the woman. Perhaps she so wished to hunt with her? It would do good, to fill the caches once more, or at least bring a meal to those most affected by the famine, she supposed. "You wish to hunt?"

@Aeronwyn

While I do admit I am not the best hunter, She was trained in the arts of herbs and religion, not the physical, but her stepfather, she no longer considered him her true father anymore, had taught her to hunt. But she rarely did it. Now, more than ever, did she regret that. I am hunting for my brother mostly; he is taking this famine the hardest. She looked quizzically at the squirrel at the woman's feet, judging how well it would feed Cicero. Would you mind if I take this kill to him?

She evaluated the woman a moment. She wished to take her kill, her hard-earned kill, to her starving brother? Luckily, Aeronwyn was not a stone-hearted killer, and admired that this woman was caring for her brother. Family, loyalty, that was important, though the femme would never openly admit it. So she dropped her squirrel by the woman's feet, giving her a curt nod. "You may."
And with that, she spun on her heel and vanished back into the wood.