She bangs the drums

The hues of twilight drenched the snow-laden tops of the mountains in blues and purples, as if violets had suddenly sprung from the frigid conditions to layer the slopes and ridges with colour. A bird flew overhead and Larch watched with sharp hazel eyes, her head turning slowly to follow its path before swinging back around to groom out a tangled patch in her wavy fur. When she was satisfied she folded her paws one over the other and rested her head on them, a half smile pulling up one corner of her lips.

The Warrior was settling in relatively well, and that in itself was a little bit odd – she hadn't felt settled anywhere before, hadn't been able to settle for fear of some tragedy befalling whatever place she chose. This Vale, though, with the mountains reaching around it and into the sky, felt secure. The mountains protected the lush slice of paradise like sturdy and stoic guardians to the animals below. The pack's numbers were few but the Vale seemed to teem with life in any case, be it flora or fauna.

The tall, lithe female got to her feet smoothly, shaking out her plush coat of honey ticked with black. Her tail swung jauntily behind her as she paced towards one of the Vale's crystalline lakes, breathing in and tasting the scents of home – another strange concept for the tree year old – on her tongue. She paused at the lakeside, narrowed eyes staring at her own blue-toned reflection in assessment before the reflection was shattered into ripples as her muzzle met with the water's surface. Larch took her fill in an elegant bow, stretching and clawing lightly at the moist bank as she rose once more to a standing position. Keen green-brown eyes searched the vicinity, ready to pinpoint any sign of prey, threat or indeed simple company.