Ravensblood Forest a place for my head

Overcast skies bled into darkness. The man wandered, roaming further and further along the coastal region. How he got here was not important - he barely recalled the details himself. He sought to look to the future in any means necessary. This was one of those requirements.

Breathing in the faded sea air, he closes in on the area of this woodland. The bloodied trees were a warning for a rather ominous night. He could see the red through the dark, his eyes adjusted to it. He approaches, sniffing the tree but finding nothing but his inward superstitions. A brow raised as he turns away, silent.

But he is alert.

The footfalls of another breaks the silence of his standing still. Amber eyes sharply turn, seeing a figure approach the man. He is on defense, but not outwardly aggressive. This is a new realm to him, and he best be prepared for anything.

Natshana often visited this place when she was on the mainland. The aesthetic was top notch, right down to the bleeding trees. She was somewhat enamored with them—intrigued by how they worked and what properties the blood-like sap boasted. True to form, she was here today, smelling of a mixture of sea foam and lavender. (She liked the ocean just fine, but she could do without its scent.) At the moment, she held no herbs in her teeth. Instead, she walked casually, on the lookout for a particularly sap-ridden tree in the hopes of making sense of it. 

Unsurprisingly, her steps were unrefined. She was obvious in her advance and had, thus, alerted a stranger to her position. It was only a tactful lift of her line of sight that brought the other wolf into focus. She transitioned quite easily to a stop without any signs of aggression or concern. Her mother often regaled her a fool.

"Well, hello," she greeted him with some air of surprise. After all, she would have sooner welcomed straight into him. "Have you come to see the bleeding trees, too?" Natshana posed the question with an unnerving sophistication that hardly suited the childish inquiry. With any luck, this wolf was friendly—or, at least, willing to make conversation.

"Greetings" came his deep baritones. He was surprised to see another wolf so soon; the man had all but skirted them until this point. He supposes that these folks are wary of new faces, yet this girl marches up to him regardless. She is of soft ivory with brunette highlights, smelling faintly of the sea beyond this wood.

"I was merely passing by" Bran replies to her inquiry, glancing away from her to remark upon the phenomenon in near silence. Amber fixes on these so called 'bleeding trees', wondering if any gods had cursed them. Was this hallowed ground, touched by beings beyond his power? His ambers shot back to the girl. "do you live near here?"

From the looks of him and the words he spoke, he was a wanderer without a pack.  Though she was not yet close enough to fully take in his scent, she imagined that it would tell her a similar story.  Either way, she wasn't concerned.  Whether he belonged to a pack or not, her interaction with him was destined to be the same.  They were two wolves passing one another in a specific space at a certain time, and nothing more.

"There is no masking the sea from my fur," she lamented good-naturedly as her pale eyes rolled. "Yes, I sleep among the wolves of Yuèlóng and tend to their sick and injured." Natshana chose her words carefully.  Though she would not speak these words to the leaders who housed her, she did not see the pack as a permanent place.  Her alliance would always be to Praimfaya first and foremost, and she would travel wherever her heda commanded. 

"I am Natshana," her name was offered simply, a bit of useless collateral. "If you would like some company, you are welcome to walk with me as I forage for herbs."

The girl did not seem very enthused when speaking of her pack. Perhaps it was merely a temporary place of residence... A name was given for the community though; Yuelong. Bran nodded briefly, conversationally, listening to her words instead of speaking much. "You smell of the coast" he agrees with her "yet you could be passing by as well. Your scent is stronger than this mere vagabond's."

Which could lead him to believe she had lived here far long than he. The girl introduced herself secondly as a healer. He said nothing to that, having no occupation to give her. "Godbrand" was given instead, his own title. Useless as it was to a pack wolf. Natshana offers her company to him while she forages. He does not so much as blink. "I would not mind..." Bran says to her, moving a bit closer.

But he stops a short distance away, mindful and respectful of her space. As long as she is with him, he will make sure she is not disturbed while foraging.

For whatever reason, the discussion of her scent amused Natshana.  There was a glimmer of a smile on her lips, fleeting but apparent for a heartbeat.  Had she been a self-conscious wolf, she might have felt dismayed.  To her, the smell of the ocean was far from pleasant.  She preferred the more earthy aroma of the woods where she was born.  Nevertheless, that was just the way life was now.

"Good nose," she commended this 'Godbrand' with an air of good humor (or, so she hoped he would receive it that way).  As he accepted her invitation, she nodded, glad to have someone to talk to as she scavenged the area. "Do not allow me to command your time," was her last reminder as they began to walk. "I have been known to talk wolves to near-death." He was free to go whenever he liked, in her eyes; she wouldn't blame him.

"What has brought you this area?"