Ravenshook Cliffs in the game of thrones, there is no middle ground

The dark woman rarely departed Blackfeather Woods. Everything she ever had tied her to the looming forest, and everything she ever would have would come from the shadowed wood. However, she felt an undeniable need to break away from the responsibilities of a mother and a leader for but a day, before the weather turned on them and she would not be able to make long trips for months. It would be her children's first snowfall, and with it came the month of the birth of all that would cause her downfall. No doubt the woman would do something rash to threaten the lives of Potema's pending children; it was simply, the Silencer could not afford the threat of inferiority of her own at the hands of Meldresi's grandchildren, which would surely become the outcome should Potema's children live. Conflict arose constantly within her, for the dark woods was filled with dormant traitors, liars and thieves; waiting for any reason to bring Nemesis' reign down from the pedestal that it stood upon. That being, the existence of the mysterious uncle that she knew, sought to take her place. With the walls of her family — her enemies — closing around her, she found no satisfaction among the dark woods where her own blood grew to detest her existence. It was in her very mind to cast out those who she knew would pose nothing other than a threat, including the man she called her husband.

The woman gazed beyond the rocks to the sea, a face full of scrutiny in reflection of her own troubles as a snarl let loose from her maw. So long had she been in power, yet when it truly mattered, little could she grasp it and little did anyone seem to accept it. However, one thing was certian, Damien could not return. A howl rose within the air from her throat, that if Damien was in earshot, he was not to return; and perhaps, a beacon to anyone nearby looking for trouble that trouble was at it's best. 

Linden had decided to go north, for no reason other than it was a direction to go. So far, this place didn't seem like it was any different than her home, so she was eager to put some additional distance between them. As a full-fledged adult, the she-wolf wanted to make her way in the world. If she wanted a family of her own, she wouldn't find it amongst her parents and siblings.

A howl broke through the air, and she followed it, perhaps not sensing the mixed and tense emotions within the sound. Company was company, and it had been some time since Linden had spoken to another wolf. She approached cautiously, then froze as the dizzying landscape came into view.

It has been days since she has seen another wolf, but she is not disheartened. It is the smell of smoke and the sight of ash-filled clouds upon the horizon that gathers her attention next, though. Miyax forgets the rumble in her belly as she trails towards the coast; then, as if to reward her curiosity, there is a call upon the wind. 

Drawn by instinct, Miyax pauses upon the plateau and issues her own message — like others from before, it is a simple note to identify where she is. I am here, I am here! The message conveys, though she speaks not a word.

Then she disembarks. As she nears the coast, she once again thinks she is alone. It isn't until a stranger's body passes through the salt-crusted trees (retreating from a dark figure upon the sand) that Miyax is corrected. She is wary, for she has learned to be careful around strange wolves she has not met - a far cry different from her old standard. Her ears swivel, listening for signs that the retreating wolf may return.

One neared the precipice she stood upon and left. Perhaps it was her overall demeanour that sparked uneasiness within the stranger, and rightfully so. The dark woman was nothing to be trifled with, nor instigated to the point of aggression. Meetings of interlopers often ended in claw against claw; so had her series with Malice concluded. However, as she retreated, the call and scent of yet another rose to her senses, and the entrapment of curiosity began. The scent neared and neared, until the other, she assumed, lurked not far behind her. It was odd, for one to seek her out when where her presence sulked followed the ominous feeling of dread -- or so she had been told. 

She peered at the other from a distance over her shoulder, with her own inquiry, 'What do you want?' Optics narrowed, both interest and skepticism were aroused within her; enflamed, her lips pulled back, quivering slight as just to show the blink of her ivory teeth. She does not speak, mimicking the other, but asks all the same. Regardless of her ability to command other's within her own pack, Nemesis was without a tongue among those she was unfamiliar with. The dark woods had taught her to be wary, of everyone and everything; it had riddled itself deep within her inner workings and she was unable to shake the unease in the face of the un-analyzed stranger; not out of fear but suspicion. She, herself, carried the appearance of any other -- overlooking scars and marks -- and she was the farthest from sane. A less than audible snarl pushed its way through her lungs, but she made no move to run the other from her presence, not yet.