Moonspear sêr saethu

The raiders had come at dawn.

Sentries were changing shifts; hunters were bedding down after twilight chases. The royals cast an eye toward the rising sun, its rays threading gold and amber through Taliesin's jet-black pelt. 

All was well in Mynydd—until it wasn't.

A shooting star streaked across the sky, its blazing core followed by a wispy tail. It emerged like an apparition from the dark velvet heavens before disappearing over the horizon just seconds later. Others had come and gone just like that, but this one, among its cousins, was brightest of all.

Likewise, a shooting star covered huge swaths of ground, gobbling up earth with each desperate, flailing stride. This star, though, was no star at all but a wolf, tongue hanging loose in a constant, anxious pant, and the little moonlight that escaped the clouds cast a silver gleam upon her golden fur.

With the sunrise yet to come, three days would have passed since her father's kingdom had fallen. Three days since she had seen the worst of wolves, had witnessed blood and fear and fire. When men were slaughtered and women bartered among the conquerors like mere commodities.

Well, Madhuri was no commodity, and would not stand to be treated so. She had fled.

Doubtless, the demons were hot on her trail, and so, as the looming shape of Moonspear began to take over the entire sky, the erstwhile princess set up a howl to its leaders, requesting an audience, at the very least.

Her grandfather had once found asylum here and now, history—as it was wont to do—was repeating itself once more.

@Katmai @Kinusi