Shadowwyn Moor moulin rouge

Bhreac had never been far from home. Not for a lack of desire — she'd always been butting up against the borders as a pup, and then farther as she grew stronger, eager to test herself and the world around her, but for a loyalty to her family. For all of her thirst for adventure and willful recklessness, she was loyal to a fault; they were her family, and she cared for them, and she would only leave them over her dead body.

In the end, it had nearly come to that. Their family had been scattered, or wounded, or killed, maybe. She wasn't sure where everybody was, and there had been too many scents going in too many directions for her to pick just one to follow, especially when she wasn't sure what she would even find. When she'd caught wind of Eshe at the borders, and seen the others from the hostile pack that'd taken them over rush to the borders, she hadn't been able to get to her in time. The first chance she got to escape, she'd taken it, going headlong after her sister.

She wasn't as used to running as she was to climbing, and the journey had been a little less than pleasant; still, despite the unpleasant circumstances, it was exhilarating to be out in the world on her own. And it all paid off the moment she lifted her nose from the ground where Eshe's scent was strong and caught sight of her. Barking, Bhreac rocketed toward her, tail wagging, barging into Eshe's side rather roughly with her head.

Stepping back to nip at Eshe's ear, Bhreac narrowed her eyes at her, but couldn't help but smile a little. It was good to see her again. "First sign of trouble and you high tail it out of there," Bhreac said, butting her head against Eshe again. "Asshole."