Kildeer Rest He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord

She isn't sure what brought her so far from home now. In a way, she misses the familiar smells, the cool days and tall grass teeming with prey of all kinds. In part, Astral even missed her family.  Her pale brother, tall and brutish as she assumed their father would be, how he tried to be noble and serene yet still couldn't resist jabbing at her with a sharp tongue. Their mother, the mirror of a pastel golden sunrise, small and dainty like herself- Astral couldn't really think of any good things to think about the woman who gave birth to her. Even that of itself seemed to be a curse, a burden brought upon the sunrise she-wolf in the form of a dark daughter one with the shadows. Surely, they would never come close to finding her here, though Astral doubts that they are looking.

So she moves onward, further into these strange new lands in search of- something. She doesn't know what. A better life, a freer one. She can smell the whispers of a pack on the breeze, somewhere farther off, so she knows, if she so chose, she could find others, maybe start a family, or be a part of something bigger than her; but she doesn't want to. Astral feels like this life has prepared her for solitude, she has reserved herself to such.

The land opens up before the little she-wolf, a field alive with small creatures of all types. She can hear mice skittering about on the ground, through grass that towers over them and under rocks. Overhead, birds claim the skies, and on the wind, the scent of another wolf, much closer than the pack she had smelled earlier. Icy eyes pick out the figure as they lay on a flat rock, basking themselves in the sun and Astral watches them closly, almost warily, wondering if she had been spotted or if she had time to slink away undetected.

These lands were strange to her, its people not hers, and frankly she wanted no part in it. The dark girl lowers herself to the ground, hoping she can blend well enough that the other wolf won't notice her presence, not ready to be charming or cordial, or social in any way.