Moonspear i lie perfectly still

@Rannoch

Olive, even as a woman who was already predisposed to melancholy, had been unusually quiet the past few weeks. It was easy for her to slip into her solitude; periods of time where communion with others seemed too much to bear and she went to great lengths to avoid. It was times like these when she was grateful for the support of the pack Moonspear, though Olive suspected that she would never truly feel a part of their tight-knit family, but the aegis of their food supply and tight borders was greatly appreciated

— especially when Dakarai wasn’t there to do that all for her.

Perhaps that was the reason behind her uncharacteristic desire for a new start; a wish to distance her from her past that has suddenly ceased, and undesirably so! It was painful and the pale fae knew that to grow she must face her truths [as ugly as they may be], but the lacerations to her soul never properly healed and reopened the moment uncertainty was thrown her way. The slight woman knew a new start would be a difficult concept for her, a wolf who clung so tightly to reveries of the past, but she also knew that baby steps were key.

So Olive began to call herself Farrah, and that was that.

It was a rare circumstance that the woman felt in high enough spirits to venture from her den in anything but the dead of night [as shrouded as a ghost] but there she was, in broad daylight, following the curves of the mountain’s bedrock.  The lamb had no rhyme or reason behind her movements, but when a foreign, wounded scent danced upon the wind, Farrah’s curiosity piqued. There was a den nearby, and the inhabitant was unknown to her. Her mind puzzled. She wanted to know more. Farrah took several featherlight steps towards the den, saw no activity around the mouth, and chuffed.

Perhaps no one was home.