Silverlight Terrace reflections still look the same to me

Though she often lacked anything positive to say about the inland wolves and their home, Akantha was utterly enchanted by the Silverlight Terrace. She'd laid down to nap earlier in the day and when she finally woke, she was greeted with the impressive, elaborate, splendor of the Moonlight cast upon the terraced foothills. The pale light seemed to take on an almost silver cast as it spread wide across the soft grasses and stones of the landscape. Akantha wondered, as her hazel eyes widened to drink in the sight of the moon above, if this was some sort of fever dream.

She nipped at her own leg, pinching the skin which gave beneath her sharp teeth—yep, she was definitely not sleeping. She winced and lapped at the tiny prick of blood before drawing all four limbs beneath her and rising to her feet. Her tail hung limp between her hocks and, for the first time in many years, Akantha felt all but a child again as she looked around at the dreamscape. All around her the world was bathed in the pristine, clam, light of the Mother Moon; as if an artists hand had come to brush her silvern rays across the plains with a delicate brush.

Slowly she began to walk, allowing herself this moment of peace to take in the sights and simply enjoy herself as a creature of the Mother Moon and her Sister Sea.