Wapun Meadow i. a vagrant you shall become

Argent eyes tracked the nightveiled with as much watchful hesitation as the pewter doe most claimed her to be; lain, plush ears now pressed forward (a rarity of its making) to listen to all the Rhælla told her. To become fearless meant all that she advised now: let the shame and faltering be cast aside. Is she telling me to trust my body? She must be.

When Rhælla demonstrated her investigation of her surroundings, the herbalist tried to mimic as much as she was able. The once-natural swivel of her head was now awkward, and her eye made to gobble up everything too soon. It devoured the nightclad, though, when she heard the word “opponent,” making Aure go stock-still.

So much information to digest, not enough time to process — not nearly enough time, because Rhælla made for her shoulder, fangs agleam. Aure flinched, hard; she tried to duck and swerve beneath the inked chin — but she was too spooked to figure where she wanted her teeth to embed.