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Description
A gentle hum, the forest song; as leaves dry and dead crackle across the forest floor, snagging on roots and stems- their scent a cornucopia of decay. Their passing was not noted by the canine- not until one of the passing stars landed before her- casting a ripple across the pristine pond with which she had been standing before.

Alone- Astera brooded on the furthest corner of the territory, her lips curled in a sneer of disgust. At her feet a stranger stared back, the long tapered muzzle so familiar. Yet… It was the eyes that were all wrong. The eyes. Those playful and vibrant spring green eyes… They now seemed sunken and sallow.

Half-sight.

She was a Half-Sight.
For as the frost had breathed its first breath upon the forest- lacing it in white, and omen had been brought to her. Not in the form of a vision- or lack thereof- but a vicious passing of talons on silent down wings.

An owl. From the trees above an owl had passed her by, and as it did so- it outstretched it’s wicken weapons, scoring a bloodied streak from her forehead to the side of her muzzle, dashing her eye as it went.

Indeed the gaze that met her back only held the sight of one eye, for the other had clouded over a sickly white.

Perhaps such a wound could have been mended and healed… But any fool could see from what creature such talons had resulted from. What would they think? That she had dared harm a sacred bird? Would they have shamed her? Cast her out? It was unknown to her. A risk she wasn't willing to take after rising to her rank.

So instead, like a coward too prideful to admit fault... she had ran. Her paws had moved until they found safety where the scents of others had long since gone stale. And here is where she stayed, her wound festering and weakening the she-wolf before eventually passing. Be it the will of the spirits or otherwise.

Thin from illness, the lone wolf pondered this act of pain. Was it justice, for failing to find her father in time? Was it a punishment for avoiding her pack in the days prior? For failing the hunt? These questions surrounded her, clouded her mind and fueled the rage that seemed to keep her wicked body from collapsing.

Perhaps this was all in the plan, the spirits were to drive her mad. Striking her down for all her thoughts of grandeur. Her hopes of leading. Of being The One. Now what was she, but a sickened and maddened fool.

She would find her feet. She would understand this cause… And she would move forward in time. But for now… There was revenge to be had. Starting with that bloody owl.

Description
A gentle hum, the forest song; as leaves dry and dead crackle across the forest floor, snagging on roots and stems- their scent a cornucopia of decay. Their passing was not noted by the canine- not until one of the passing stars landed before her- casting a ripple across the pristine pond with which she had been standing before.

Alone- Astera brooded on the furthest corner of the territory, her lips curled in a sneer of disgust. At her feet a stranger stared back, the long tapered muzzle so familiar. Yet… It was the eyes that were all wrong. The eyes. Those playful and vibrant spring green eyes… They now seemed sunken and sallow.

Half-sight.

She was a Half-Sight.
For as the frost had breathed its first breath upon the forest- lacing it in white, and omen had been brought to her. Not in the form of a vision- or lack thereof- but a vicious passing of talons on silent down wings.

An owl. From the trees above an owl had passed her by, and as it did so- it outstretched it’s wicken weapons, scoring a bloodied streak from her forehead to the side of her muzzle, dashing her eye as it went.

Indeed the gaze that met her back only held the sight of one eye, for the other had clouded over a sickly white.

Perhaps such a wound could have been mended and healed… But any fool could see from what creature such talons had resulted from. What would they think? That she had dared harm a sacred bird? Would they have shamed her? Cast her out? It was unknown to her. A risk she wasn't willing to take after rising to her rank.

So instead, like a coward too prideful to admit fault... she had ran. Her paws had moved until they found safety where the scents of others had long since gone stale. And here is where she stayed, her wound festering and weakening the she-wolf before eventually passing. Be it the will of the spirits or otherwise.

Thin from illness, the lone wolf pondered this act of pain. Was it justice, for failing to find her father in time? Was it a punishment for avoiding her pack in the days prior? For failing the hunt? These questions surrounded her, clouded her mind and fueled the rage that seemed to keep her wicked body from collapsing.

Perhaps this was all in the plan, the spirits were to drive her mad. Striking her down for all her thoughts of grandeur. Her hopes of leading. Of being The One. Now what was she, but a sickened and maddened fool.

She would find her feet. She would understand this cause… And she would move forward in time. But for now… There was revenge to be had. Starting with that bloody owl.