Shadows.

At the current moment Sombra embodied one perfectly, dark as the night itself but for her two white socks gleaming from the knee to her toes. It was in this way that she patrolled the border, mindless and undectected as a shadow, melding into the night. Born of the stealth that enabled her to do such a thing and flaunting it in a way that portrayed her cunning mind in a clearly visual way.

Not that Sombra was a fool.

Sure, she wound through the undergrowth. She could trace her way without a leaf to fall upon her rippling bodice or a paw print to betray her whereabouts to strangers. But the dark female did not go across the border, not one pawstep though the more she enforced upon herself the fact that she could not go into the terra, the stronger her paws pulled to the indeterminate border. Indeterminate as in she had lost the scent of the guidelines she had followed so long, and dropped her head to the ground with aquamarine eyes still fixed on the ancient bush ahead of her. Many found it easy to ridicule careless work, and Sombra was no exception. A growl rumbled in her throat, gazing to either side and the limited expanse of the lush place that was offered to her. Allowances were not hers to hand out but her mind forgave the poor soul that had been out here remarking anyways. It wasn't easy terrain to cross, nevertheless make a lasting impression on.

But the wolves of Malignant Felicity had done this that, and Sombra, though harbouring doubts that the leader had done this herself, felt a lingering desire to meet this... Queens. The dark vixen lowered her stomach to the grass, optics lidded and tired even after the rest she had allowed herself that afternoon. Her limbs trembled and stretched as the pent up tension slowly released itself from the clutches of her wary self. Her thrashing banner a twin of the single fang slipping over the side of her black lip, auds straight but not expecting to hear much. Wolves, though primal and social creatures, generally spent their time perusing in the daylight, which could have been a possible explination for her fatigue. But Sombra was not interested in the reason for her abnormal tiredness, rather what to do with her time before the Queen decided to address those lowly wolves that wished to be her...loyal subjects.

Sombra blinked her eyes open, the hard stones glassed over and determined in the meager light of the clouded moon. Useless, blunt claws flexed against the grass as if the thoughts of grandeurs weren't limited to her own imagination, and a growl once more rumbled at the back of her gut. She contemplated howling, but why bother and irritate both herself and the wolf in charge?

Patience was a virtue, and though she wasn't loaded in the virtuous department, she took it to heart.

Just another day in the life of Sombra spent waiting.