Hideaway Strath What profit will we gain if we kill our brother and cover up his blood?

A matter quite unsettling happened the night before to the Mackenzie. At one point she fell asleep in her makeshift dugout in the heavily forested area of the Strath. Upon opening one steel eye during the course of the night, the Raven that followed her into the Wilds was on the ground before her snout watching her sleep with cold, beady eyes, unmoving. While she had grown used to the Raven’s atypical attraction to her months prior, this was the first time the Raven had done something very unusual in that manner.
 
On this day, the Acolyte took to a steady trot and stroll through the Strath. Briefly forgetting about the strange incident the night before, the Raven would remain her second shadow she could never escape as it soared from branch to branch in the canopy above, giving a shrill caw every now and then. There was no particular region she was aiming to roam through in the Strath, though she did suddenly come upon a presence she had not yet familiarized herself with.
 
A darkly grayed male that smelled of Donovan to almost a tee. His eyes were a dark yellow, darker than that of Nyra’s gaze. Her trot slowed to a stop once coming at a considerable distance. Her stance remained neutral. Before she was able to mutter a word, the Raven above perched onto a branch above the two dark wolves and decided to make the introduction on behalf of Zsuzsa instead by giving a loud, almost barking caw to the male.