{ Angels are Bright Still }

Father had been right. This was a place of swamp and thicket so like before and yet still so changed. The ground was thick with soil and leaves, blanketed by the leavings of pines and indeed was deceptively solid in places. It seemed thick, full and heavy and yet more than once when I placed so delicately my white paw upon it- the earth would wheeze and squelch, the soil would shift and groan to reveal the swamp and bog that toyed beneath. Eyes of violet and emerald narrowed as I looked upon this sight. It was perhaps not the sinful place Heyel had believed it to be, though indeed his fear for his hair would surely have made it as such to his mind. Yet even so this crater was not a place I would come to again. Perhaps I would look back upon such a moment one day and smile at the innocence of my thoughts, at the belief that truly I could choose to which places I would and would not be drawn. Yet within these days I was still young, still so assured and confident within myself and within those who had surrounded me, convinced that I would lead them to the glory of my Mother and Father before me. Perhaps they would laugh were they to see me in this moment, paused at the foot of a bog for fear of staining the perfect snow of my pelt that glowed so faintly in the dappled light while the Angel Mark upon my spine blazed quietly, modestly as I turned and slid so soft and silent atop the earth, the grace of a bloodline so old allowing my limbs to move with gentle care and whisper a path around the earth that sucked and squelched.

I continued on, for today I had come with no plan, simply to see this land King Heyel had spoken of, the land of swamp and thicket and though indeed, while it seemed a place unwelcoming, I did not feel so much that it was without merit. To learn of a path through this swamp, to learn where and when the bog grew thick would be a thing most wise, a safety, a defence against the terrors of this world and truly in those moments I do believe I resigned myself to this discovery. The wolves of Diveen would master the swamp. Father could run around it if truly it bothered him so. Yet, while the thought of the destruction of my pelt, a prized position, a mark of who I was, did not so well sit within my mind I would be more the fool for not allowing this place to be given it�s chances. Yes. I would send others to learn of this swamp, to seek a path through it and master it�s tangled web of lies. I moved onward, graceful and smooth along the earth, away from the swamp and thicket, towards the forests of pine that smelt of earth and life and for a few moments I am given to remember Mother, the way her pelt smelt of pine and sun and sand. I turned from these thoughts as another scent tangled itself within the air. There would be time to think of those I had lost and this moment was not such a time. Another lingered close, her scent caught between sky and tree, pine and earth, well hidden and yet I had been raised by Angels, by Assassins- we are not so easy to fool. None of us. We are of Diveen.

Delicate head turned as I paused, soft pelt blown with a gentle ease by the faint touch of wind as I lowered my eyes to peer within the trees and shadows, to spy the female who rested, or so it seemed. Her chest rose and fell like one asleep though beneath her lids her eyes fluttered, her ears turned with a wariness that betrayed her intent. Such a pretty pelt she wore, so bronze and gold within the dark of the shadows and grip of the pines. It was a rare thing, a colour I had not seen so often before and indeed my mind was intrigued by the girl beneath the trees. A loner, perhaps, though long ago I had come to realise the words of others did not always ring through. I did not hold the same prejudice against those who chose a life other then Pack. Perhaps they were more unpredictable, volatile, yet they did not have the security of others to add their call. Were they anything less they would surely perish and I cannot find it within my mind to judge another who wishes simply to survive. We have found gems amongst the earth before, perhaps I would find such a thing this day. So strange that pelt, I knew no bloodline that carried it though indeed I could not yet see her eyes. Eyes never lie as pelt does, eyes show us truly from whom one is made. I did not linger to close, nor to far, as my gaze rested upon her, my tall, powerful form coming to sit beneath the shade, offering to her space and the respect of such a thing. There is no need to show my position within the lands of the free wolves. All are equal here.

�Why do you sleep amongst the pines? Is it being to hide the scent of yourself? One with a pelt so fine should not be hiding it from the world, no, it is a beautiful thing to my eyes and within the light of day I am not thinking you need to hide quite so well. It is only in the dark that the others come.�

I spoke gently, tones soft and sweet upon the air, another mark of my blood and place in this world. This female did not yet carry the scent of one who had lived here so long and thus perhaps she does not know of those who come in the dark.....

5 Years || Angel Queen of Diveen || Mate of Kane || Soul of Finley

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