Oh such grace! Oh such beauty!
And lipstick, and callous
and fishnets and malice

It was a warm spring day. Harridan was relatively feeling rather lazy. Virago had left her early that morning to venture out into the new world for herself. Harridan hadn't bothered to say a word to her headstrong daughter, as she had remembered the way her own mother tried to smother her adventure and sense of independence. The sterling grey wolf wouldn't do the same to her only legacy. She briefly thought of Mordecai and Larka. Briefly thought about the night the skies had burned alive and fire had rained down upon them. It had been hell on earth. Harridan's hide had just finished healing but when she stretched she could still feel the tightness of the skin that had since pieced itself together and regrown it's fur. It was like it was a fairytale or a bad dream as she looked at her reflection in the calm waters of the lake. The fur looked as if she had not burned and screamed with the rest of them. When they had made their exodus, a burning branch had fallen, breaking ribs and burning flesh. It was by sheer will that she had managed to get Virago out alive. And when she had come back, the fire had spread and she could not make it back to her den to retrieve her other two children.

Two years had pasted. The first year Harridan had been angry. She had been filled with a rage that many of the other survivors felt. It was a part of the grieving process. She had hoped that one of her Sisters had rescued her pups, but after a year, she had accepted that there would be only one surviving pup from her union with Caius. And Caius...well, Harridan assumed that he too died in the blast, for neither scent or hair had been found of him.

They had lost so much.

And yet, in the morning when Harridan watched her sleek black and charcoal daughter wander off into the crater and the new world that had been reborn, she remembered what she still had and it had been enough. There were moments when she was lost in the grief that still tugged at her heart, but most times, Harridan had returned to her smart-ass comments, her stoic stature on most things, and her brutally honest way of life. She did not live in any illusions that she was anything but a rogue at heart. Ferrine seemed like a distant memory and she knew that unless it was recreated, she wouldn't join another pack. Harridan would live her days out free and carefree.

She stood gazing at her own scarlet eyes and the spring coat that graced her frame. Another year behind her. It was only then that the sound of footsteps take her attention and she brings her bright eyes up to watch. The winds weren't in her favor but she never feared the new wolves that wandered through. Most were happy enough to leave alone and be left alone. Still, Harridan wasn't much in the mood to leave alone anyone and so she turns to face them. Curious eyes watching and waiting for them to move a little bit closer.