Golden Glade The edge of the land

@Jhala @Reek 

The wind fought her, straining to push her lithe form out of balance. Her petite size managed to stretch itself farther with each lengthily stride. Feyre's breath came out in heaving gasps, but her eyes remained alight with joy. Her head was thrown back in abandon, her nose scenting the wind as its kisses stung her maw.


With a sharp intake of air, she halted, her paws skidding upon the compact soil. The scent of other wolves was strong, and she stopped to think. She wouldn't mind the camaraderie of a pack again. With he mind set, she tipped her soft muzzle up into the sky, letting out a musical howl to alert the pack of her  presence.