Silverlight Terrace what do you want from me?

she'd moved south for no reason other than the restlessless that had crawled into her bones like lines of ants, until she'd woken with the knowledge that she had to be anywhere else than there. and she'd picked south simply because she does not remember the last time she's seen what lays beyond them. the woman moves with all the easy confidence of a grizzly in it's own range, coat reflecting the dim light of the moon above. the latter is a consequence of the three hours spent grooming herself from nose to tail, another, similar fit of restlessness that she allows to dictate her actions having no one and nothing else to do so. exhaustion pursues, but she does not pause in her step, her wanderlust has yet to let up.