Wolf RPG

Only one look from the silver was spared for Northstar — her ears cast away, stella eyes making a ponderous pass over the blockade of daunting, spearing stone that embraces the Vale like two strapping arms. Arms which cradled something hallowed to its rocky chest; arms that cast heavy plum-shadows across the brushwood and stony earth, seizing all below in unassuming dark.

...It was not unlike how Rhaesuial had been, Aurëwen thinks. But it is not for them — not here. It doesn’t soothe that aching, cruel stretch in her soul. It doesn’t coax for it, call for it the way she’d like.

So, the quartet continued northbound, with the mountains upon them and the misty remnants of the Vale brushing over their hips as they departed.

The sky was unblemished, a high sapphire, but the late morning sun had yet to warm them. All around them the earth was alive with the deep greens of midsummer; majoram and mint pierced the soon-to-balm winds with their sharp fragrances; buttercup and forget-nots and snowdrop alike pushed through tangled growth, only to be bruised underpaw. Clutches of windswept pine reached for them from their rooted lees; muted soldiers in the needly earth. 

There were still hours, many and more of them, to go before the sun returned to the kiss the horizon; and the greenseer had begun to vitrify into a more watchful, wary she-wolf. But she wasn’t so heartless as to drive her three past moonrise.

No, they would stop at first glint — and managed to surrender a soft smile to her son, her daughter, and her champion for it.