The child of the storm had found a strange stirring that had erupted inside of her youthful body. She had grown to know the stretch of the pack. She had explored it on her own and it had taken her away from the family den and her siblings. Perhaps this was the reason that she wasn't as close with them as she should have been. Granted, there was a large portion of her that was protective of their wellbeing, but Thyri had transitioned into a child of the wild. The stormchaser had transitioned into a creature who thrived on instinct above all else. Her heart beat for her to be on top – to succeed – and to fight for what she wanted. The young child's heart thrummed with the beating of the storm. She was the crack of lightning and the roll of thunder embodied in a stiff-limbed child with pale caramel eyes.  
 
When she caught sight of Freyja, a bad taste settled onto her tongue. The youth narrowed her brows at her sibling and attempted to move forward and dart right past her. She was not certain how successful she would be.  

 
There was almost an immediate change in the way that Freyja held herself once she had set her eyes on Thyri. The stormchaser felt her fur bristle instinctively and she drew her head upward, ears swiveling forward, and hackles rising. Freyja was getting to big for her own good. She was growing, but she had found an ego in her new age, and the youthful feral did not agree with it. She would have found herself capable of turning away from the situation that had been presented, but there was a burning in her gut that would not allow her limbs to carry her away. Instead, she stopped in her trek and turned so that she was positioned in front of the silver-furred sister. Her pale caramel eyes held the crack of lightning within them, and her rigid posture became – somehow – more stiff.  
 
There was an instinctive reaction to peel her lips wayward over her canines. Her ears began to turn back and flatten to her skull, and Thyri's own tail lifted upward. First, she aimed to match Freyja in her posture, but as she drew herself closer, she began to make a point to lift herself higher. She would not bow to the weak girl of the moon.  

 
Freyja moved in the same manner, attempting to make herself as large as Thyri. For a moment, it was fuel for the fire in the stormchaser's belly. The young feral took a final step forward, just as the words were falling from her sister's lips, and she felt the final cog click in her mind. Freyja was not a threat; she was weak and boasted strength that she did not possess. This was the reason for the thunder child's immediate change in disposition. It was almost dramatic, the switch in mood.  
 
Instead of throwing herself into a fight that she knew would grant her victor, her wolfish features crinkled into a snicker. Thyri's fangs emerged in the laugh of disgrace, as her head shook from side to side. She did not even grant her sister words. Instead, she snorted in a manner that would provide her feelings without fail. Her thoughts on the silver-furred girl were clear. Her expression spoke one thought: pathetic.  

 
Thyri had not lost herself, she had found a power within herself that was greater than anything she had experienced before.  
 
It would not have done her any good to try and describe the transition to Freyja. The silver girl was so wrapped up in her own ambitions and her attempt to climb into the favors of the leaders that she could not have seen the beauty of a pure instinctual nature. The youth of the storm had found that on her own. She could feel the tossing of the weather within her soul. There was no doubt about the path that was destined for her. Still, she doubted whether or not Freyja would be strong enough to endure it, should it be unleashed.  
 
"You let your new rank speak for you, Freyja, but it does not make you strong. It makes you foolish," she growled to her sibling in the tongue of the common wolf. Thyri could gain rank, but it would not guarantee to harden her soul. Soon, Freyja would understand that.   

 
Freyja almost swelled with pride as she attempted to return a response. Thyri listened to her sibling with an expression that lacked any emotion. Her left ear flicked lazily at the sound of the silver girl's voice, but she was listening, and intently. The words did not make much sense to her, but perhaps it was the manner in which she processed things. It was her own train of thought that carried her a step sideways. Her pale gaze trailed back over to her sister and she frowned as Freyja finished her speech. She was not certain if it was intended to be rousing – if she should feel a comradery with her family and her pack upon hearing it.  
 
"No, Frey," she growled with a stern narrowing of her eyebrows. "I cannot see your strength when you are surrounded by others. I see your strength when you are alone and frightened... and I have seen your fear. You are not strong on your own, so you are not strong when you are with others," she then rattled. It was the most that she had spoken in some time, but the words were necessary.    

 
"I had to learn," the stormchaser answered with a shrug of her shoulders.  
 
Thyri was not there to impress her siblings. She was there to prove to them that she was the finest and most capable of their brood. Though she expressed many of her feelings with an apathy that would have felt like nails on a chalkboard, it was becoming her nature and would soon transition into a harsh reality. She could not learn to survive surrounded by her siblings and her parents. Her father, she felt, would understand better than the others. Freyja did not know because she valued different things. Thyri valued the savagery of nature and the way they were intended to be. Freyja valued... rank and that which she could attempt to hold over others.  
 
"I am better since I have been on my own. I am stronger and more confident. I am not grounded by the simple things that hold you here," she snapped with conviction. For Thyri truly believed in her strengths and abilities. She knew that she was better because of it.     

 
Finally, she spoke and the words made sense to the young child of the storm. She allowed her dark lips to curl upward in a slight smile and she nodded her head. "That's the first thing you've said that I agree with," she remarked coldly. Without another word, the young girl lowered her skull and began to lope away from the silver-cloaked child. Thyri had no further interest in carrying on a conversation that she did not have any investment in. She had more important matters that pertained to the thick rolling clouds in the distance.