Dawnlark Plains all that summer was fire and rain

if @Bhediya wants a thread :eyes: Otherwise, All Welcome! No need to keep it open for anyone.

It was strange to return to the plains. So much had been broken, here. So much had fallen to pieces. It was such an arbitrary place for their family to fall; the plains meant nothing to them. Sure, he youngest siblings (to her knowledge) had been born here, but they hadn't lived here.

Not even she had, in the end.

Easy mused on these things as she sat in the ash and snow. The soot, this time, was from the distant mountain peak, and not from the earth around her. It was funny, she thought -- one fire had gone out just for another to start in some distant land. But the world was like that. Life didn't happen just where she could see it, but everywhere, in every direction. It'd made her feel terribly small and alone, at first, but now she could only think it beautiful.

Without anything else to do, the shewolf lifted her muzzle and began to sing, as she had not done since being separated from her brother.

"Pick me a wildflower in the morning
and I'll hold it with me always where I'm going.
And when I feel sorrow or death is in my view,
I'll wear my wildflower perfume."

The name of Morningside was dying out in this land. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way, and that was why such misfortune always seemed to befall her kinsmen in this place. Perhaps she was assigning too much weight to the likes of fate.

"Tomorrow I'll be leaving before nightfall.
My kinsmen have now heard the siren's call.
And as the doves sail 'cross the ocean so blue,
I'll bathe in my wildflower perfume."

She wondered about the curse her father had often spoken of in her youth, and of the tragedy that'd befallen both her oldest siblings. Would the same thing happen to her, if she was to whelp? And where were her siblings? Dead? Scattered, to be sure. Was she the last of them?

"Still, pick two wildflowers every morning,
and wait in wake of true love's returning, 
and call for the bluebird every afternoon
to bring me my wildflower perfume."

Life was fickle. She was sure it didn't pause and think of her near as often as she thought of it. What a cruel thing, she thought with a sad whisk of her tail, to have been born with a heart. What a cruel, wonderfuly, beautiful thing.