Wapun Meadow if i only had the nerve

there was an ease to her gait as she frolicked throughout the meadow, paws skimming the coruscating carpet enveloping the entirety of her svelte figure as the breeze giggled and toyed with her shivering cloak of silvered adornment. her chest rose and fell in a hurried progression, as if she must taste each and every drop of air that this little patch of land had to offer; as if it were perhaps the last time she'd ever get to. and there was an inferno of determination, or maybe even something more akin to desperation, alive within the press of lustrous looks as she danced with the vibrant life humming around her. indeed, a cursory look would deem this as but a girl cavorting about a pretty meadow, but to the press of a more vigilant glance; it became something else entirely. the careful pirouette one might perform in the midst of battle, giving the allusion of a caper when in reality the slightest mishap would cost you your very life. there was no destruction to the way in which the dove moved, careful to keep the majority of sprightly flowers intact and yet in that moment she was a scintillating soldier, making a last stand, despite knowing it was all so in vain.

because she is fed up with being useless, helpless in the face of the frailty of all you held dear. she wanted to be powerful, to have control over something; she had to! and she would, from the moment that witch had strutted past their borders her mind had begun a fervent ticking. past whispers and reveries of forming a group of like minded peoples that would stand in the face of barbaric monstrosities, give the bad guys something to fear, increasing to a demanding clamour. she was going to do it, she was going to form a pack, and they would bring hell to those who deserved it. 

she has stilled, flanks heaving and yet she is invigorated; teeth pressed hard upon each other as she blinks across the meadow- and focuses upon a wraith a mere few metres from her. he is poised by the waters, such a pallid figure amongst brazen radiance and there is a true moment in which she believes he must be a phantom lingering in the land of the living. but the breeze whispers its stolen secrets, revealing the scent of their tense neighbours engraved in his fair hairs. it is stunning, that this being that somehow appears fragile even in comparison to the dainty flowers dancing around them, belongs to the band of warriors terrorizing their lands. 

perhaps he is their arrow, so miniscule in comparison to deadly swords and yet the most dangerous of all. slender and unassuming until striking with lightning precision before the victim even knew they were about to hold such a title. but she does not retreat, in fact the girl steals forth so that she too approaches the stream, gaze never leaving him as she quietly murmurs "it's beautiful isn't it? the way the light is caught in this everlasting dance with the water" for she knows what a side look would gift her, another sight of the strange love affair carrying on between the light of both the sun and the moon and the crystalline liquid trapped upon the earth. there was an expectation alight in the gaze she cast him, clearly the answer to such a query meant a lot to her.