Dragoncrest Cliffs Please unravel my soul,

Hunting was not her speciality, nor was really.. Anything, except memory and herbs. However, she had the pride of a wolf to think about, and so poorly did the reaper chase after a hare around the cliff. Embarassingly so, little droplets fell from her white mask as she constantly tried to chase it, but honestly at this point..

It was like the rabbit was teasing Grímnismál.

Rusalka, uprooted. Valravn, gone. Miranda slept with one eye open, could barely trust the howling of the wind. The sea-breeze front with its swaggering cumulus head casts a soft shadow. He paces, restless along the shore. He could close his eyes and just as easily imagine that he was back in Alaska, somewhere untamed and larval to the rest of the world.

A flash of movement catches his attention. The greyscale girl with the foreign name — the medicine smell is unmistakeable. She's chasing after something, but what? He follows, ears perked, thinking that he sees a creature small and dun bobbing just out of her desperate reach.

He calls out to her with a low bark. It was his belief that wolves should not let rabbits get the better of them.

She stopped- mostly due out of embarassment now that someone actually caught her failing so miserbly. At the moment Grim wanted a star to fall and instantly kill her to avoid this. How she wished and prayed at the moment, but as her mother would say 'God is dead, there is no miracles.'

So, the best she could do was shuffle her paws to where she stopped, and look down in utter misery.