When the stallion joins Ranjiri, the bird does not seem to notice, or care. Her flight continues forward, her calls ever sounding, and the shadow of the forest grows deeper and deeper.

Soon, the world about the three becomes truly wild, the roots treacherous and gnarled, and the trunks of the ancient trees are remarkably broad and twisted. The gentle shrubbery of other forests in Helovia becomes the grabbing branches of brambles and thickets, the paths the bird follows more and more difficult to follow swiftly. Like golden beacons, the sunlight pierces through small, keyhole openings in the canopy, spilling radiant beams which make the darkness around them all the more obvious.

It might be easy, then, to notice when the magpie dips into the earthen den, nestled between two ancient trees. Their roots, conjoined like thousands of fingers clasped tightly together, form an awning, reaching over a concave hole. What used to be a hillock on which the proud trees grew has slowly been eaten away by rain and wind, forming a dark hollow, into a light deprived space several feet wide and tall.

Into that shadow the bird slips, its body rippling and morphing eerily as the dark swallows all sight of it.

It’s not long before she returns from the den, but now, the creature is no longer a magpie at all; a black wolf flecked with moony white returns from the entrenchment, busy with something at her paws. The eyes of the she-wolf, however, are still the same, hauntingly intelligent black orbs, flickering up at Ranjiri and her male company anxiously.

Glossy as obsidian, but richly black as the night sky, the egg she tenderly rolls towards the mare is obviously hers. What is also obvious, in this wolf form, is that the creature is old, with silver predominant about her eyes and mouth, her once fine fur worn, and draped loosely over tired bones. Death is coming for her, too soon for her to care for her last, precious offspring as will be necessary for its survival; something about Ranjiri made the shape-shifter sure that her child would be well cared for, even if the mare was to have a child of her own, soon.

Though the wolf cannot talk, her intentions are obvious as she nudges the egg away from herself, towards Ranjiri’s golden hooves.

[ Congratulations!

Ranjiri has been given a common rougarou egg! You may hatch the egg in this thread or wait until a time of your choosing. ]