if you throw me to the wolves
"Well you won't find one here." A voice suddenly says from somewhere behind the copper-haired maiden. If Melita turns, she will see Delah, arms crossed, a mischevious scowl on her small features. Today the war chief is dressed more simply, clad in earthen colours and textures she looks fairly unassuming, save for the hardened steel in her mossy-gaze and the way her body moves with a predatory grace.
"But I suppose that isn't overly surprising. That you, one of the barrier-folk would come traipsing into our woods again, misguided and simply looking to take."
With an arched brow, the war chief leans against a tree, her wings folded neatly against her back as she apprises the taller woman with a look of disinterest.
"But I suppose that isn't overly surprising. That you, one of the barrier-folk would come traipsing into our woods again, misguided and simply looking to take."
With an arched brow, the war chief leans against a tree, her wings folded neatly against her back as she apprises the taller woman with a look of disinterest.
i'll come back leading the pack
