any one is welcome though Lori is looking for female wolves to recruit, males will likely be treated with indifference. Just a heads up :) rolled a 7 so no food for her
She preferred travelling in the dead of night for she oft went unnoticed; dark as she was it was rather easy to blend with the shadows and pass by both gatherings and rogues undetected. However, with the seasons progressing towards the cold of winter, the warlock was forced to trek through foreign lands under the glare of daylight. The most important things were done under the cover of darkness, at least for a witch, and some part of her regretted that her pilgrimage could not be the same.
She felt naked, exposed, as she came across the glen. Bare cedar trees lined the marshland's banks - a few stubborn branches clinging to the last of their fiery foliage - their branches scraping in the wind with welcome as Lorelei breached their confines.
Moss muffled her slow steps as she investigated what had once been home to others of her own species. She could not consider them her own kind, despite their lupine heritage. Men had been amongst their ranks - dim creatures, guided by the lusts of flesh and thinking themselves superior for the genetalia they'd been cursed with. Their women had been but lost sisters, ignorant to the Goddess and their own birthright.
Lorelei would show them the way, granted they sought her company.
Hunger rumbled in her stomach, the painful urge to eat driving her to abandon the curiosities of the Fen in favor of seeking out the marshes. Ice clung to the grasses, cold as it crunched beneath dark paws. At the edge of the gentle waters, Lorelei paused. Her gaze was drawn to the dark shapes paddling slowly along the muddy bed of the pools.
One beaver ventured close to the where the witch remained poised and after a moment to account for refraction, she struck. The water was bitterly cold, stinging her flesh where she'd plunged in. The beaver squirmed from her jaws, the lot of dark shapes disappearing as Lorelei retreated from the icy burn of the waters. Licking a few drops from her dark chops, the witch moved on - having tried her luck with the beavers.
The shadows were beginning to lengthen as she padded into a clearing amidst the willows - their long branches crusted with frost - with many a stump littering the small meadow. As the sun began to set, casting an orange hue on the glen, Lorelei chose a den at random. They had been dug long ago, no scent remained to warn her of occupants.
Certain she would remain undisturbed, the disgraced witch curled her frame within it to lick her pelt dry and rest for the night.
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