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Description

She had something to prove.

Not long after joining Vale, she had chosen her task. An Outrider. She would report herd movements to the Huntsmen, signs of larger predators or Vandrs to the Sentinels, and be the voice and ambassador of the Alpha if sent beyond Vale. The task intimidated her at first, but the appeal was the freedom; to have the simple ability to leave the den and run for miles at a time. She used to do that in secret in her former pack, and now, it was her responsibility.

Every day she ran for miles and explored every inch of the territory. Some nights required her to find a den to rest within before leaving for home the next morning. Home. The word used to paralyze her, but now, it inspired. She wanted to return and report her findings. She wanted to contribute and work hard for the pack. Being out alone and having expectations placed upon her gave her new life and new meaning. She wasn't isolated to the den anymore, no -- she was wild and free and worked hard to earn her keep. Not a day went by that she wasn't on her feet and patrolling. Early to rise and late to return, she was dedicating her life to this task and her new pack.

But it wasn't always easy, and some lessons are learned the hard way. Winter was just beginning to bloom when she and Sagan ended their journey South and ran into Faust at the Northern border only a few moons ago. Her task was chosen shortly after the first snowstorms rolled in. She had set out early one morning with the hopes of reaching The Cathedrals by nightfall, but the journey had been slow. Shelters for the night were there, she had been told, at which she could rest and return the following morning. But the clouds rolled in, thick and pregnant with snowfall and wind. She had barely made it beyond the midpoint of Ellon Moors when the clouds went into labor and prepared to birth a monster of a blizzard. Darkness began to swallow the light, despite it being the middle of the day. This storm was a formidable foe that she could not outrun. So she pushed on.

Snow and ice whipped around her. It was as if the mountains themselves did not want her near. The winds came down and blew along the Moors as they tried to force her back. She could feel her paws grow heavier as snow and ice clung tightly to her fur. She could hardly see beyond her own nose and had to turn her head to breathe, as the winds raced down her nostrils and tried to choke her with their icy grasp. It did not take long for even the sun to retreat behind the thick blanket of clouds. How much further was it? She could only wonder. And worry.

Her lungs fought for air and her legs were growing more numb. She was a fool to try and make it to the mountains. She was a fool to think she was fast enough. Strong enough. Wolf enough. Perhaps she did belong in the den where it was safe and warm and protected by those willing to die for her. Her forelegs gave in to defeat and crumpled beneath her weight. She could not feel them and had no choice but to stop and rest. The snow and ice of the storm was building up around her body like sand in a sandstorm that threatened to bury her forever. She fought back tears, knowing they would only freeze and add to the ice that had already collected upon her face. She should have stayed behind and not taken such a risk. She should have told Faust she wanted to be what she was comfortable with and someone he did not have to depend on. She was unreliable. Weak. A fool, just as her mother had declared years ago.

No.

The word burned in her mind almost as badly as her mother's criticism. No, she was not a fool. No, she was not weak. She had been given this responsibility because she asked for it and believed she could do it, and she would not die out here -- not after all she had been through and survived. She forced her eyes open and winced as the wind slapped her in the face and taunted her. It tried to force her down, as her mother had done. It tried to hold her back and make her feel powerless. But she was strong. Her journey to Vale with Sagan had proven that. Now that she was here, in Vale, she would not cower. So she stood.

Her body ached from the cold, but she steeled herself to the wind and pressed on. The harder it blew, the more determined she was to make it to the mountains. The sun would not wait for her to reach safety before it surrendered its warmth to the night. She would not survive a night out here, so she had to find shelter.

Gritting her teeth, she moved slowly, one paw after another as she began to leave the Moors behind. The sun was setting now and young, barren trees began to dot the landscape. She knew she was close when the wind began to retreat. No matter how hard it blew, the mountain would not cower. It inspired her to pick up her pace.

More and more trees began to appear like skinny lighthouses amongst a sea of powdery snow. She followed them with renewed vigor and hope and could feel tears swell in her eyes at the sight of stones and boulders. She had made it across the Ellon Moors and defeated more than just the storm. It did not take her long to find the dens she had been told of near the foot of the mountain. Snow still fell, heavily at times, but she was safe. She had survived, yet again, and decided that night to continue proving her mother wrong. She was not weak. She was not useless. And she was not a fool.

Just a scene of Nyru by herself out and about and trying to prove to not only Faust and the pack, but also herself, that she is not weak. Figured I'd make up some prose and art to sort of chronicle her development as a character. This obviously takes place early on in her career as an Outrider.

Hopefully it's okay for me to combine literature and art into one submission, as uploading them separately sort of breaks the "flow" and seems silly since they are meant to be shared together. D:

Also, just me experimenting with lighting and effects this time! I'm trying to do something different and new each time I draw this character. c:

Nyru and Artwork © Quaylak

Description

She had something to prove.

Not long after joining Vale, she had chosen her task. An Outrider. She would report herd movements to the Huntsmen, signs of larger predators or Vandrs to the Sentinels, and be the voice and ambassador of the Alpha if sent beyond Vale. The task intimidated her at first, but the appeal was the freedom; to have the simple ability to leave the den and run for miles at a time. She used to do that in secret in her former pack, and now, it was her responsibility.

Every day she ran for miles and explored every inch of the territory. Some nights required her to find a den to rest within before leaving for home the next morning. Home. The word used to paralyze her, but now, it inspired. She wanted to return and report her findings. She wanted to contribute and work hard for the pack. Being out alone and having expectations placed upon her gave her new life and new meaning. She wasn't isolated to the den anymore, no -- she was wild and free and worked hard to earn her keep. Not a day went by that she wasn't on her feet and patrolling. Early to rise and late to return, she was dedicating her life to this task and her new pack.

But it wasn't always easy, and some lessons are learned the hard way. Winter was just beginning to bloom when she and Sagan ended their journey South and ran into Faust at the Northern border only a few moons ago. Her task was chosen shortly after the first snowstorms rolled in. She had set out early one morning with the hopes of reaching The Cathedrals by nightfall, but the journey had been slow. Shelters for the night were there, she had been told, at which she could rest and return the following morning. But the clouds rolled in, thick and pregnant with snowfall and wind. She had barely made it beyond the midpoint of Ellon Moors when the clouds went into labor and prepared to birth a monster of a blizzard. Darkness began to swallow the light, despite it being the middle of the day. This storm was a formidable foe that she could not outrun. So she pushed on.

Snow and ice whipped around her. It was as if the mountains themselves did not want her near. The winds came down and blew along the Moors as they tried to force her back. She could feel her paws grow heavier as snow and ice clung tightly to her fur. She could hardly see beyond her own nose and had to turn her head to breathe, as the winds raced down her nostrils and tried to choke her with their icy grasp. It did not take long for even the sun to retreat behind the thick blanket of clouds. How much further was it? She could only wonder. And worry.

Her lungs fought for air and her legs were growing more numb. She was a fool to try and make it to the mountains. She was a fool to think she was fast enough. Strong enough. Wolf enough. Perhaps she did belong in the den where it was safe and warm and protected by those willing to die for her. Her forelegs gave in to defeat and crumpled beneath her weight. She could not feel them and had no choice but to stop and rest. The snow and ice of the storm was building up around her body like sand in a sandstorm that threatened to bury her forever. She fought back tears, knowing they would only freeze and add to the ice that had already collected upon her face. She should have stayed behind and not taken such a risk. She should have told Faust she wanted to be what she was comfortable with and someone he did not have to depend on. She was unreliable. Weak. A fool, just as her mother had declared years ago.

No.

The word burned in her mind almost as badly as her mother's criticism. No, she was not a fool. No, she was not weak. She had been given this responsibility because she asked for it and believed she could do it, and she would not die out here -- not after all she had been through and survived. She forced her eyes open and winced as the wind slapped her in the face and taunted her. It tried to force her down, as her mother had done. It tried to hold her back and make her feel powerless. But she was strong. Her journey to Vale with Sagan had proven that. Now that she was here, in Vale, she would not cower. So she stood.

Her body ached from the cold, but she steeled herself to the wind and pressed on. The harder it blew, the more determined she was to make it to the mountains. The sun would not wait for her to reach safety before it surrendered its warmth to the night. She would not survive a night out here, so she had to find shelter.

Gritting her teeth, she moved slowly, one paw after another as she began to leave the Moors behind. The sun was setting now and young, barren trees began to dot the landscape. She knew she was close when the wind began to retreat. No matter how hard it blew, the mountain would not cower. It inspired her to pick up her pace.

More and more trees began to appear like skinny lighthouses amongst a sea of powdery snow. She followed them with renewed vigor and hope and could feel tears swell in her eyes at the sight of stones and boulders. She had made it across the Ellon Moors and defeated more than just the storm. It did not take her long to find the dens she had been told of near the foot of the mountain. Snow still fell, heavily at times, but she was safe. She had survived, yet again, and decided that night to continue proving her mother wrong. She was not weak. She was not useless. And she was not a fool.

Just a scene of Nyru by herself out and about and trying to prove to not only Faust and the pack, but also herself, that she is not weak. Figured I'd make up some prose and art to sort of chronicle her development as a character. This obviously takes place early on in her career as an Outrider.

Hopefully it's okay for me to combine literature and art into one submission, as uploading them separately sort of breaks the "flow" and seems silly since they are meant to be shared together. D:

Also, just me experimenting with lighting and effects this time! I'm trying to do something different and new each time I draw this character. c:

Nyru and Artwork © Quaylak