Haunted Wood they were there when I woke up this morning

she wondered why, exactly, he'd brought up regretting it. she wouldn't have considered regret at all when making the easy decision, but wonders at it now. these wolves do not seem to be a pack in the way blackfeather was—is—each seems out only for themselves. 

at his offer, she dips her head in quick agreement. her wounds are fresh, but surely there is no better time to practise when old mistakes still burn. her gaze is on him, waiting, ready, alert in the same way that always preceded a spar with scylla.