Haunted Wood the hell in your eyes

Paging @Thuringwethil

The bird circled above the Commander's head, a bundle of red fur clutched in its beak. It had contemplated it next course of action long enough, and now needed more data in order to make its final decision.

Swooping low, it entered the Commander's line of sight, landing several yard away and waving the fur in a gesture that was almost taunting before taking to the air once more.

The bird moved slowly, flying low enough to the ground that one might think they could catch it, should they leap just high enough. But the bird's command of the sky was masterful, and a wolf had as much of a chance catching her at this height as it had taking flight itself.

With a lot on her mind now that they arrived, she wants to make use of her time here. While they are not moving out right away, giving each other a chance to rest and practice and make sure those that need to depart will find their way well enough. It does, however, pull her to the border and circling near the outside, scanning the expanse beyond the caldera. She cannot sit still for too long, or be useless in anyway, and so she puts her strengths into treating the redhawk claim as she would her own. She doesn’t necessarily leave marks behind, so much as making sure there isn’t anything suspicious going on where she can help it.

However, the sight of a black bird in the sky draws her attention. She stares briefly, watching it sway back and forth until it drops low rather quickly. Briefly, she wonders if it is the same bird that she’s seen here and there in Drageda, and why she has been sticking close by, and if not, why black birds in general are offering their company. The bird hasn’t gotten close enough for any distinguishable features but this time it does and she can see the flash of red in the bird’s beak. Thuringwethil slows to a stop and watches as it dances back and forth, low to the ground, but she makes no effort of going after it.

If it is her attention the creature is striving for, it has succeeded, but she does not chase after it, and only watches each movement closely.

The bird landed in a tree about a hundred yards from the Commander and stared her down. The red fur was released from its beak, and fluttered to the ground in an otherwise motionless landscape, scattering across the span of only a few feet.

Beak freed, the bird leaned forward and gave a low, beckoning croak. Its dark, beady eyes were sharp upon the other, locked to the wolf's larger frame as if waiting for some great mystery to unveil itself.

Thuringwethil has never given birds much thought other than the occasional annoyance or meal. She’d never been skilled in hunting them and some where too small to even bother with, including the one taunting her on with fur of her mate (or daughter).

She stares for a long moment, only watching the rift of fur fall for a few seconds. The croak pulls her gaze back up, watching, and then after several seconds of consideration, the commander steps forward to close the distance.

The Commander moved forward. The bird did not seem to react much at first - merely watched the wolf as the distance between them was closed. Finally, when it seemed as though the bird must have no interest in the wolf at all, it leaned down toward its quarry, cold, black eyes bearing down upon the other.

"I have been watching you, Heda," it whispered, its voice a sickening parody of a wolf's.

Part of her is in disbelief this is anything other than coincidence. There’s more than one red, fiery wolf than either her mate and daughter. With no smell to the tuft of her that is obvious (not that she tries to smell what lands nearby), she can’t fight back the curiosity. The bird doesn’t seem to give her much attention but after a moment, it croaks out a sound that doesn’t quite sound real. The words aren’t perfectly clear, or enunciated, but she understands. The bird, for some reason, has been watching her.

Now her attention is sealed despite how little her expression changes. It has never been in the realm of possibility to train a bird for use but perhaps there is something to it.

”I know,” she says, though it isn’t entirely true. She’s noticed the bird once or twice in Drageda, most strongly with Hvitserk involved, but she hadn’t thought much of it until now. How long has it been going on. ”What is it you want?” she decides to ask, glancing around and wondering what someone would think if they saw her. Her scan is brief, and her ears and nose do the rest of the work as she refocuses on the bird to find out what motive it may or may not have.

It did not answer. It did not move or blink. It did not even seem to breathe. For a moment, the bird simply perched upon its branch, seeming dead in its inactivity in a way that normal birds did not. And then the stillness was broken by another low croak, and a beat later, that same croak revealed itself to be words.

"One exalted and one defamed
no daughter is the one to blame
but son of lord and stone destroy
the saftey of the coming joy

"O Heda, will you hear this cry
the mother is the one to die
when comes the cub of lord and stone
Commander is left all alone."

It stilled once more, peering down at Thuringwethil with a measuring look in its small, dark eyes. Then, with a satisfied ruffle of feathers, the great bird mantled its wings and took flight, soon disappearing into the dense trees beyond.

A few seconds go by and nothing happens. The bird doesn’t even look her way and, maybe, she’s imagined all this so far. Or it is one of the former commanders in another form, trying to talk to her. She tightens her jaw a little bit when the bird croaks, then speaks something not so garbled to her ears. Her mouth is about to open to say something, to ask for clarification—despite knowing a prophecy is never meant to be explained—and she sucks in a breath instead as the creature takes flight. Dark, steel eyes stare after the bird as it disappears, left to consider the words she’s been given.