The Sentinels Mykonos

@Witchhazel

And so Olive traveled! The harlequin's wayfarer ways elicited her from the forest, magnetized by the forces that lay beyond Teaghlaigh's sap-scented territory. The atmosphere had chilled significantly in the past few weeks, to Olive's dismay and delight. The sky brought forth delicate flurries of snow, buoyant upon the air currents of the looming Sunspire mountain. This part Olive loved; she exalted the snows for the balance it bestowed on the earth, demonstrating its power over all life in the dark and dead of winter. But for now, the singular snowflakes fell and dusted her pelt, peppering the agouti hairs with an alabaster sheen. In response, her small body had been busy at work growing out her winter coat. A warm layer of dense furs hugged her, keeping her inner warmth from evanescencing into the hungry atmosphere. 

However, the decay and scarcity of the Teekon winter kept Olive from submitting entirely to the power of the cold. She rebuffed the simple yet compounding nature of the season: rebelling even in her sleep, her longing provoking dreams of dappled sunlight. This part of Olive laid latent and unawakened, but the three year old still had much to learn about her own spirituality.

Ceannasach had intrigued her with talk of their alliances and neighbors. The coywolf had connections and history, that was for sure... and the femme was slightly jealous. Olive had very few continuous relationships, as her restless paws prevented her from staying in one place for very long. Now being a part of the Teaghlaigh family was a unfamiliar blessing and she relished the depth of knowledge she was accumulating about each member. It was this thirst for knowledge that pulled Olive from her home, nestled between the bleeding, singing trees. For too long she wished to know the Donnelaith wolves but remained lazily inert - but she was now a wanderer wandering, seeking any scent that might harken the borders of Donnelaith. 

Before too long, she located what she sought. Rather than howl at the borders for any wolf with free time, the sylph preferred to hug the perimeter and canter around the outskirts of the marked land. She kept her gaze lifted and drifting across the landscape, wishing to encounter one of these famed strangers.