Voron stood still, her eyes closed. She could be a statue, except for the way her ears twitched at every sound. She was enjoying something she hadn't felt in a long time – peace. The sun's light made the foliage around her glow green, and the chirping of small birds reassured her, there was no danger here. If she concentrated, she could even make out what they were saying. The constant chatter was telling others of food, the occasional shriek warned of some passing danger, but over all, the chatter said one thing; I am here. Voron trusted the birds. They would alert her, not through sounds, but through silence, if there was some real danger.
The black female was at the edge of the old graveyard, in what used to be Dahlia de Mai's land. She had come here in hopes of finding her old pack, and perhaps rejoining. But all the scents were old, they were long gone. And Voron was weary; finding them could wait for another day. With a sigh, the wolf opened her eyes. She knew she had to find food if she wished to live. Food and water – water was in abundance, but she could not approach streams or rivers, let alone the ocean, without terror sinking it's poisonus fangs into her. And food, well she could still kill as well as any wolf, but lately she was just too tired. Starvation had settled into her very being, leaving her coat thin and lack-luster and her ribs and hips protuding. Voron looked around her, wondering faintly why she felt more at peace in a graveyard than anywhere else. Especially when what haunted her was a ghost. Cheron, however, had been silent so far today.
Voron took a few steps so that she was in the shade of an old tree, and lay down. Maybe if she lay here long enough, she would join the ancient skeletons buried underneath. Then some young wolf would come along years from now, and fing her skeleton buried amongst the bones of humans, and wonder... the female yawned, the heat and peace making her tired. She layed her head upon her paws and closed her eyes, a black sleeping statue amongst old gravestones.