The Sunspire for those who've slept

thread

she wakes to the sound of coyotes, their odd yipping calls dim and distant. the girl yawns, sliding salmon tongue over lips and rising stiffly, extending each limb in a tired stretch before gathering them all beneath her once more, offering a stiff shake of her pelt. she'd forgotten how much progress she'd made the night previously, and is pleasantly surprised to see so much of the range spread out before her, and a great valley beyond that. 

she steps toward the edge of the small plateau, oblivious to the fact that her mother had once stood here, long ago, when she'd run with a different pack. the coyotes fade into silence, and when it comes, it seems unbreakable. alone, so far removed from the flatlands, she feels an odd sense of contentedness.

and then she looks up, and traces all the lights with a detached sense of wonder. there had been no reason to look up to the skies in the haunted wood, nor blackfeather before that. the canopy obscured much of it, besides, and she had never had a reason to examine the night sky any more than she had. but here, it felt so much closer, and she wondered in reverant silence at the great canvas spread out all around.