@Mae
The dawn was just beginning to break as Morwenna tucked @Anatolia into a small thicket, shielded by the twisted roots of an old, gnarled tree. The ground was soft with moss, and she gave the young one a final, gentle nuzzle, murmuring a reassurance that she wouldn’t be long. With one last look at the sleeping form nestled safely away, Morwenna turned and moved silently into the early morning mist, her belly a quiet reminder of the hunt she intended to find.
The forest stretched around her, cool and dim under the cover of leaves, each step careful, precise, her senses attuned to the world coming alive around her. But as she threaded through the trees, an unexpected scent caught her attention—strong, unfamiliar, and distinctly lupine. Morwenna paused, her ears flicking forward, body tense yet calm. In the distance, a shadow moved between the trunks, and she let out a soft, low sound, a gentle chuff, to alert the stranger of her presence.
Her posture remained neutral but poised, waiting, watching with a silent curiosity as the figure shifted in her direction.
The dawn was just beginning to break as Morwenna tucked @Anatolia into a small thicket, shielded by the twisted roots of an old, gnarled tree. The ground was soft with moss, and she gave the young one a final, gentle nuzzle, murmuring a reassurance that she wouldn’t be long. With one last look at the sleeping form nestled safely away, Morwenna turned and moved silently into the early morning mist, her belly a quiet reminder of the hunt she intended to find.
The forest stretched around her, cool and dim under the cover of leaves, each step careful, precise, her senses attuned to the world coming alive around her. But as she threaded through the trees, an unexpected scent caught her attention—strong, unfamiliar, and distinctly lupine. Morwenna paused, her ears flicking forward, body tense yet calm. In the distance, a shadow moved between the trunks, and she let out a soft, low sound, a gentle chuff, to alert the stranger of her presence.
Her posture remained neutral but poised, waiting, watching with a silent curiosity as the figure shifted in her direction.
you were born reaching for your mother's hands,
victim of your father's plans to rule the world,
too afraid to step outside,
paranoid and petrified of what you've heard.
victim of your father's plans to rule the world,
too afraid to step outside,
paranoid and petrified of what you've heard.
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Birds of a feather - by Morwenna - October 28, 2024, 04:23 PM