Duskfire Glacier keep moving... but don’t move too fast.

as the brute, the invader, sullied her polished halls with unclean feet, giving chase to what was meant for the pleasure of a royal hunt - she watched.

but when it took for itself her belonging, fresh meat meant for her larders, the queen stepped down - delicate shoe noiseless as it took to ground from the height of a pine.

the loup busied itself with the kill. the queen's steps were long, even, languid and quiet, not even a rustle of skirts to announce her, the wind of her claim serving her.

when she could judge that a few quick leaps would be enough to entrap the vagrant, la Reine de Feumont announced herself.

mm, iz zhat meant for moi? her purr accompanied by a small smile, yet a venomous look in her slit green eyes.