Golden Glade from a night that time forgot

@Harrison c:

So the sea nymph wandered again.

It was an odd thing, the life of a loner - without the company of wolves at her side (the waves of the ocean, too), she felt terribly exposed. She could handle herself, of that she was sure, but her dreams were not filled with warmth. Faeryn had to remain alert in order to ensure her safety, but sleep had eluded her the past few night regardless; the nightmares, they came in bursts of heat, flames licking at her toes and singing the ends of her silvery fur. They often scared her, so she kept moving to forget, her paws dancing across the ground swiftly, as though they had a mind of their own and yet somehow were controlled with a knightly precision. Though she was small, petite, the sylph had a great master over her own body - she was lithe, but had toughened over the passing moons (becoming stronger was, in reality, the only way to survive). From first glance she appeared dainty and regal, a little gem. 

Night was falling now. The moon gave a ghostly glow, and beams of pale light scattered in through the canopy above like shards of broken glass. Every now and then a trickle of white would pour onto the seawolf's delicate features and illuminate them in a way that could only be described as ethereal - perhaps it was the sparkling blue of her coat, perhaps it was the glimmer in her gaze. Her pace began to slow, and her breaths slithered through parted lips to pool in the air as little grey clouds - she adored the night almost as she adored the sea.

Maybe she'd rest here for a few heartbeats, regain her energy before setting off.