Snowforest Taiga we can't get higher than we get on the long way down

@Evanora sorry this is short!

He leaves the border of Whitebark Stream feeling numb, cold the way he had in the weeks before he'd run into @Phillip. It'd been their friendship that had pulled him out of that fog, grounded him and reminded him that he can't always run from his emotions. But Phillip isn't here now. He's alone for the moment — and when he finds @Kratos, he'll have to be strong.
He doesn't feel strong right now, though. He feels broken and very, very alone.

The witch crawled out of her marsh, muck stuck all over her small body as she travels north in search of more ingredients. Leaving her bones and mask behind, she travels as one of them, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself while away from the familiar marsh that was her home. Without the bones caressing her curves and face, the melanistic coyote felt naked and free as she swiftly traveled north. 

But of course, as she traveled, a strange sight had caught her attention, a strange sight indeed! A small wolf-like creature, not much bigger than herself - and oh! With that fur. Boldly the witch approaches, a pleasant smile etched across ebony lips as her eyes glitter at the sight of the beautiful fur. mine, mine, what beautiful silver hair. I might not but bring some back, may I hast some?

Oh, she must, she must have some to bring it back! The other had so much, all she could do was part with some of that winter coat that was already just falling off! The things she could brew with such pretty hair, what magical things could she do!?

His attention is snatched away from this thoughts when someone approaches him — someone who looks uncomfortably similar to him, even a little smaller and weirder looking. She doesn't smell like a wolf, but since she looks like him, he assumes she must be one. Not that it matters much. His mood is already sour even before the ugly little woman opens her mouth, and her words do nothing to help that. Is she... flirting with him? He can't imagine she genuinely wants his hair. It's a really weird thing to say, though. Uh. What? His voice is flat, gaze cold and expectant on her.

She stalks around the one with the pretty silver hair, hoping to snag some should it shed off - nothing. How disappointing; and more so is that they seemed confused! She was being rather upfront with her desires, wasn't she? the hair! the fur! a lock of it for me to use. With big shining colorful eyes, she pleads with the silver-haired woman. thou do want not all of it, summer is coming anon. allow me to lift this burden, a gift.

Or she could just take it - honestly, Evanora was being quite kind by asking for it so nicely. She could always poison the lady with some sweet nightshade and pluck it from right off her bones! That way she could just take as much as she could carry back to the marsh and make quick use of it in all kinds of magic...

Okay, wait, what the fuck? She actually wants his hair. He freezes for a moment, disgusted and baffled in equal measures — and the only thought that crosses his mind before he starts speaking is 'That could still count as flirting.' No. What kind of freak goes around asking for people's hair? Are you sick or something? His words are icy as ever, tone betraying little of his true level of revulsion — though it's likely obvious anyway. He takes a step back, seriously contemplating that this creature might have some sort of illness; something in the same vein of the affliction he'd suffered as a child. He doesn't know if he could catch it from her, but he doesn't want to take the chance.

Freak? Wolves were so rude, ill-mannered as they swing around pissing on everything and barking out orders - if she could find a willing bear she would love to plot with it and let it teach these low lives who truly were the kings and queens of these lands. Perhaps the next time she came across one of those she ould approach it with the idea... 

I be  not sick - silver fur to use  'i  a spell, a wonderful spell. as they stepped away, she stepped forward, a deadly dance as she would not relent. She wanted that fur. i shall share  'i  its creation with thou,  'i  thanks for the gracious donation Midnight velvet swept behind her as these dual-tone eyes kept trained on the little wolf. 

grant me the fur or i shall beshrew thou for thy selfish greed. She continued, finding herself growing more impatient as the other fought against her kind inquiry of obtaining the shiny argent hairs.