Phoenix Maplewood paganus

Obvi no need to match length. Not even remotely sorry for throwing this hot mess at you.

The waif trailed toward the forest that called to her—recognition burning like embers in her eyes, and yet something within her mind not allowing the realization of it to surface to the forefront of her mind.

It was beautiful, in so many ways—and the maiden was hopeful that within such a luxuriant garden of trees and wood she would come to find some medicinal herbs and plants she could cultivate or store. The season was the perfect time to prepare—and beginning to feel more rested and protected within the sheltered borders of Whitebark Stream, Meadow was keen on exploring the neighboring areas and putting herself to good use.

The fresh trail of another called to her—familiar, only in the sense of the wolf’s stay within her home, and thus her mind determined packmate.

She caught view of the dark shadow, her eyes studying the male with curiosity, eager to perhaps have a companion during this small excursion. “Excuse me,” she called out, beckoning him, the wisp of a voice rising as she began to lope forward, her silver tail gently swaying behind her.

“I was…” And that was when unexpectantly, the shadows of past came rushing forward. Fire—the blaze that had scorched at her home and family. The smoke rising beyond the very trees she now stood. Her voice faded, her paw falls stopping as she trembled lightly, no longer even seeing the man before her.

Death. Death had nearly come for her beside this forest, and the recognition she had felt came back with a frightening clench at her chest, and Meadow began to wobble, now on unsteady paws. This had been the beginning of the downfall of her natal pack. Of her family.

The smoke had burned her lungs—the fire had licked at her, but she had remained unmarked, at least from the outside. Within—the repressed fire ignited once more, and the world faded to darkness as Meadow collapsed to the earth in a dead faint.