when praimfaya stirs awake; lulled to consciousness by what should be early morning sunlight peeking above the cresting horizon she is, instead, met with dismal grey skies and heavy snowfall. as she leaves the warmth of her den, kept close to her body by the furs she has amassed from her prey over her months spent in moonspear, she finds that the air has a biting chill to it as she trudges thru the snow to the borders. with dacio — and osiris, hopefully — on the mend and hydra's orders to not go out of the territory without a pack-mate, praimfaya must make due with border patrols for now; knowing that she must keep her mind and focus as sharp as her teeth.
especially, she thinks, if war is truly on the horizon.
especially, she thinks, if war is truly on the horizon.
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