Meadowlark Prairie someone to rely on as thunder comes a-rolling down

for the first time in several weeks, astara left blackfeather. 

her home was but a blot behind her as she wandered in a seemingly aimless fashion, investigating the meadow that bordered the dark forest. while astara was nearly a year old, there was still much for her to learn, some of it outside of blackfeather's depths.

relmyna had left them. their mother had gone, before they were grown. how was astara to learn the intricacies of life now, except from hardship? how was she ever to grow up to be like her mother, without her there to guide her?

averna was handling their dam's death far better, and astara knew why. the silvery sibling had always been a wolf with one foot in the spiritual realm -- she knew relmyna's spirit still walked among them, but astara, try as she might, never saw the shade of her mother lingering.

night was falling in the valley astara stood in, and as she watched the darkness collect about her, once more the girl felt overwhelmingly alone. she canted her head skyward, where the stars spun cold and indifferent, a thousand miles away -- just her mother. in a manner unbidden, the nightcub's jaws parted and a tender, sorrowful song lilted into the wintery air -- a song of grief and sorrow, and of fear and worry for what was yet to come.