Morningside Cuesta and in the trembling blue-green of the sky

She did not know what pulled her so far south; as always, she attributed it to fate.  If she found someone to bed her for the night, so be it.  If she did not, she would enjoy the solitude.  She had not been out of the territory since she had met Saarthal, and she became lost as she dreamed of the young girl's stormcloud pelt, of her hawkish gaze.

Further south she forged, now accompanied by the cacophany of night; cricketsong, the chattering of coyotes.  In the distance, moonlight hit a stranger to where they appeared so bright she could've mistaken them for an apparition.

Nervously, hungrily, she drew her tongue across her lips and moved forward before she chuffed.