She wanders Hyaline as a tigress, as she does most days.
It feels right to be so connected to her mother. To wear her form and to know her so intimately. It feels good to be connected to a shape that does not shift and change the way the rest of her does. Even her equine form does not stay the same, she thinks bitterly. It is the third shape she has worn in so many years. To die twice so young. To be on the brink of adulthood and never worn a body for longer than a year. It gives an eternal taste of of loss on the tongue—something bitter that does not dissolve.
Still, this remains true.
This is the same.
It is only when she hears the soft cry that she turns her young head to the side, her feline eyes sharpening on the other large cat. She notes the black form and draws the only conclusion that she knows.
“You must be a daughter of Atrox,” she says simply. She had heard that the panther soldier had plenty of them, but this was the first time she had met one. He mostly kept to himself these days. After giving her the helm of Hyaline, he had been content to spend his days hunting along the mountains or with the only non-shifter among them—the angel whose faint glow she caught from the air on occasion.
Breach wonders if Advent had come looking for him.
“I’m not sure where he is today, but any shifter is welcome to enter and look.”
There is a brief, mischievous smile that touches the corner of her lips.
“And stay, if they’d like to join the pack."
I want to swim until we both begin to feel the weightlessness sink in
@[advent]