if you do not have shadows,
you are not in the light
She is beautiful, now. If her mother could see her, Brine might not even recognize her. She had grown taller, her once petite and awkward frame more secure and toned. She has muscles to carry her miles, wings well-used and exercised to offer precision and accuracy, her mane has grown into wind-tangled knots and her tail a feminine veil of elegance.
Our golden light had flown--as she often did as mode of transportation since leaving Brine--across the territories and unknown lands to find herself back for the first time to the river since she had parted only short of a year ago now. Her landing is calculated; choosing a barren space merely inches off an animal-made trail and only yards from a sandy bank into a flowing creek she knows well.
The air is rigid, winter paying its dues in ways only the misfits understand, the ones with no home or haven. She knew this well, after all she had come from the land of the unwanted and unheard of, the shadowy places where monsters lurk and prey hide; stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Or, in their case, between teeth and famish.
Though it be cold and the trees are painted in a beautiful, shimmering frost, Ruthless as always is able to pull the positive from her situation. She has a home to return to, friends to lean on, food to eat, and shelter to hide her from horrid weather. A short visit to her stomping grounds could do her good, it could humble her.
Or, perhaps she could meet a friend. That could be nice. Someone to talk to not tied into loyalty to the Taiga, or perhaps not tied to loyalty at all. A refreshing change from diplomacy and strategy. An airy, light hearted conversation that will leave her salivating for more.
A brainless conversation? Please, shall we?
A twig snaps, her ears twitching to focus on the intrudance beyond her site. Her wings quickly adjusting to snug into her side, an instinct to protect and cover still lingering after a childhood in the dark.
Ruthless
@[Darkling]