Troubled Spirits

if you throw me to the wolves

Delphia had a habit of making mountains out of molehills. The spirits are worried, she'd say of a particular bit of the forest. Whatever disturbances though were meant to come were largely 'not of this world'. So the girl said. Daughter of Mort though she might be, the Guardian was steadfast in her loyalty to the woods and her kin. Delphia was like a distant cousin, twice removed. One of them in a way, but an outsider just the same.

And on the tall side too.

"She may pass." Delah called from within her hut, putting down her quill and turning in her chair to stare towards the doorway with an expectant and already stormy expression on her face.

i'll come back leading the pack

Coding base by Sky!