Heart and Crown of Molten Gold

Running towards nocturnal, Pitch spent a great deal of time roaming the world while others were asleep. The woman did her best thinking at night when the world was in quiet slumber. Tonight was no different. The willows were quiet aside from the gentle whispering of wind through the long hanging branches. Periodically, a night bird would call out, but even they did so softly, as though not to disturb the quiet overly.

Pitch moved along, following one of the many little streams. There was no sense of urgency in the midnight fae. She simply soaked up the world around her with little care to anything else. This place was middle ground between two packs. She'd scented both of their borders, learning what she could while walking in this mid-land. The muddled scents proved that many wolves from both pack frequented this place. Lack of wolves and definitive markings made this place free game and so the dark woman continued her exploration.

Following the stream, the gold flecked fae came upon a tree that was split asunder, perhaps struck by lightning long ago. Resilient, the tree didn't die. Instead, it's fallen half grew out over one of the larger streams. Altering her course, the obsidian dame padded up the overhanging tree, sliding down to lay on her belly, one foreleg hanging downward so that blackened toes brushed the top of the water, leaving little trailing ripples that the stream quickly washed away.

"Pitch"