Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.

Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.

Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:

"Do you have what it takes?"

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I'm racing right on Marx' heels when the call from Kershov comes and in an instant, I've changed my path to match the shadowy male before me. We high tail it through the trees of Abendrot, his inky body blending into the shadows while my more snowy touched frame has to find more silence to keep its stealth. Even so, I fold myself into the brush of the forest, using the cups of my pads to silence the deep snow beneath my paws as much as possible, helping me to better blend into my surroundings.

I am like a ghost running over the snow, slender paws spreading out more like paddles to keep me afloat. Mismatched globes can soon make out the outskirts of another pack land, nostrils twitching as I try to put a name to the beauty. Ah, Bright Moon, it is, then. My tail twitches behind me, eyes gleaming as my next target is finding the other forms of my pack mates, some of whom I'm sure have already found their way here.

Soon enough I can make out Kershov's deadly frame of white, looking tall and proud as any tundra king should. On his heels is Mamba in all her sexy light, trotting along in silence like any well trained assassin should be. Even her silhouette seems to shrink into the shadows like a ghost, making herself quite the image. And next but certainly not least is the male right before, Marx. He shrivels a bit into himself the closer we get to Kershov and Mamba. My eyes glint knowingly, sure that he's still showing his humble airs for the king who showed him mercy on the borders.

He still has a lot of making up to do before Kershov will trust him to stay. I dip my own head as we get closer, ears lacing back to my forehead in respect, eyes brightening with the honor of being with him on this little sight seeing trip. Okay, so it's not a sight seeing trip so much as a chance to check out the competition and I hear Kershov wants to have a little chat with the alpha as well. I can sense the former leader's presence once more in the lands, the female, I think she called herself Satowra? Perhaps I'll finally get to meet this queen. I've heard much about her.

My porcelain form glides to Kershov's shoulder, giving him space but showing my presence and support all the same. I greet him with a tiny smirk and mischeveous eyes, just enough to let him know that I'm onto his plans without having to voice it. Why waste the breath when he can read so much from the rest of me?



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