I L I A N A
Other than the forest, she is finding the river to be another suitable place for wasting time.
Neither of them reminded her of home; her home is gone, as far as she is concerned. Hyaline’s lake might still exist, but it is an entirely different kingdom that has grown around it, one that she does not recognize no matter how similar their features might be. Perhaps in time she would learn to love the Dale as it is, but for now it only serves to remind her of the things she has lost, and the things that cannot be undone.
She could have gone to the Chamber — the place where her father’s heart once beat beneath the soil, the reason for the scar he bore on his chest, and the thing he had once loved most. She had visited the kingdom in hope that stepping onto such hallowed ground might make her feel something; that her blood might be drawn to the call of her father’s heart, but try as she might, she felt nothing while she was there. There was no heartbeat, either; she is certain that even if she felt nothing else, she would have felt that.
Feeling unmoored, there is nothing left for her to do but to wander.
In her panther form she moves quietly along the riverbank, not necessarily trying to go unnoticed but certainly not trying to attract attention to herself. It was easy enough not to; she had been born with the ability to shift into a panther, had soaked in everything Atrox had ever been willing to teach her. She knew how to slink so that the grass beneath her paws did not rustle, knew to be mindful of rocks and other debris that might move. In the warm sunlight her rose-gold rosettes glint against her velvet-black fur, though they disappear as she slips into the shadows cast by the trees that line the river, and it is only her unusually colored eyes that give any visual indication that she is not a normal wildcat.
She sees him, the stallion that stands in the water, and struck by a rare need for mischief she decides to see just how close she can get to him before he notices. She would never (probably) injure another horse—her prey was limited strictly to truly wild animals. But there was typically something more challenging about trying to catch a horse off guard, and so lying low she creeps closer and closer to the water, rose-gold eyes focused on her mock target.
Neither of them reminded her of home; her home is gone, as far as she is concerned. Hyaline’s lake might still exist, but it is an entirely different kingdom that has grown around it, one that she does not recognize no matter how similar their features might be. Perhaps in time she would learn to love the Dale as it is, but for now it only serves to remind her of the things she has lost, and the things that cannot be undone.
She could have gone to the Chamber — the place where her father’s heart once beat beneath the soil, the reason for the scar he bore on his chest, and the thing he had once loved most. She had visited the kingdom in hope that stepping onto such hallowed ground might make her feel something; that her blood might be drawn to the call of her father’s heart, but try as she might, she felt nothing while she was there. There was no heartbeat, either; she is certain that even if she felt nothing else, she would have felt that.
Feeling unmoored, there is nothing left for her to do but to wander.
In her panther form she moves quietly along the riverbank, not necessarily trying to go unnoticed but certainly not trying to attract attention to herself. It was easy enough not to; she had been born with the ability to shift into a panther, had soaked in everything Atrox had ever been willing to teach her. She knew how to slink so that the grass beneath her paws did not rustle, knew to be mindful of rocks and other debris that might move. In the warm sunlight her rose-gold rosettes glint against her velvet-black fur, though they disappear as she slips into the shadows cast by the trees that line the river, and it is only her unusually colored eyes that give any visual indication that she is not a normal wildcat.
She sees him, the stallion that stands in the water, and struck by a rare need for mischief she decides to see just how close she can get to him before he notices. She would never (probably) injure another horse—her prey was limited strictly to truly wild animals. But there was typically something more challenging about trying to catch a horse off guard, and so lying low she creeps closer and closer to the water, rose-gold eyes focused on her mock target.
-- the shadow is mine, and so is the valley
@Meyer