music to my ears ; open, hunting patrol

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    Warpaint’s sleek ivory form slunk through the forest, her ears perked at the haunted hoots and tunes that whispered among the branches overhead. Her emerald hues gleamed as she moved from shadow to shadow, eventually emerging into the camp’s clearing with a heavy breathe of crisp winter air.


    “If any wish to follow, I will be hunting,” she murmured, casting her gaze over those who milled about the camp. Head high, she moseyed along one end of the camp, her ears flicking for any note of one who might wish to attend.





    "I'll join." The raven dropped the note to Warpaint, staying perched on a branch. It was much better than having to be stuck on the cold, snowy ground. Though spring was approaching, food was still scarce. They needed all that they could get.

    — "speaking in #7f7caf" —

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