The Sentinels rabbits playing with polar bears

She had fallen back to her old habits, spending much of her time on the social fringes of Donnelaith. It had perhaps been a mistake to build her den at the forest's heart, for it saw many passers by and it exhausted her to hear the metronome of voices, even if she could not make out the words and did not engage.

Emaleth was never meant to lead, for her nature was not suited to it. Still, she was ambitious, and the thought that she may never amount to anything great like her father was a poisonous weight in her belly.

Whispers of a leftover dream lingered at the edge of her mind, for she could not grasp the memory. But she felt a restlessness, and emerged from her den, mismatched eyes blinking against the dappled sunlight.