Blackfeather Woods never seem to find the time

Inward, he headed, deeper into the trees and darkness that swallowed him whole. A raven somewhere far off in the distance cawed, a low, sombre note that Redshank dismissed with a flick of his ear. He had a mission to complete and would not be distracted. He had come to take and to leave. There was no particular reason why he chose these woods; he had just come across it at a time where he had felt bold — and desperate — enough to take his chances.

Pack-scent was everywhere, infiltrating every nook and cranny of the territory and any other, saner individual would have realised their mistake and fled by now. Instead, Redshank pressed on, slowing only when a ghost-like figure emerged to block his path.

She was small in an average way, with a pelt that contrasted the gloominess of her home. The Cairn halted, staring at the stranger blankly. He gave no indication if her words actually registered in his mind, but his eyes traced the grisly scar that ran up the side of her mouth, exposing a row of teeth. He let the silence after her demand linger for a moment before replying flatly, "I smell prey." It was all he wanted. His attention slipped from her then, and he went to move past the girl further into the forest, his pace unhurried but resolute.