Dawnlark Plains Longing to belong

Luckily for Theia, her wound was a superficial one. It had ceased in its stinging quite some time ago. What stung more was that she was cast back out into the world alone. She trotted along the plains with her eyes downcast to the ground, bitterness bubbling up in her breast like bile. Why? What had she done to deserve this? Was it even deserved at all? She just wanted to be happy for once, like she was when she was young. But those days were long gone, and she was a very different wolf now, tainted by illness of the mind. To her, though, she has simply been enlightened. The world was just out to get her for some unknown reason that she hoped to one day uncover.

A movement caught her eye, and she jerked her head upwards—which she quickly regretted, as her body punished her for tugging on her torn flesh. Theia grimaced but studied the woman before her. She was pale and appeared to be a loner, just as she was. Also like herself, she didn't seem pleased by her predicament. Striding up to the she-wolf, she spoke in a wise, authoratative voice with a reserved mask to boot, It's tough being out here alone, yes? I am Theia—what is your name? Her chin and tail were raised high to further assert herself as the higher being that she was, despite her recent encounter. Theia hadn't even considered the fact that her wound still looked quite gnarly, blood still staining her fur.