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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memento mori
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The fall forest could be called silent, but that was not entirely accurate. Before Tamlin had arrived at the female’s locale on the borders he had been basking in the solitude and quiet of the woods, but his auditory cortex had never ceased to be stimulated. It was quiet, yes, but not devoid of noise. Even a casual listener could discern and enjoy the euphony of the soft calls issuing from birds that trilled their melodies amongst the trees. The avian lyrics were harmonious, and the sound of the song-mongers crooning their contentment was a welcome one to the canine. It wasn't sentimentality (although the sound of peace was not unpleasant in itself) but rather the fact that life was stirring in the once-ashen lands that allowed a small blossom of satisfaction to take root in the pallid warlord's chest. Other, less noticeable but still perceivable sensations also reigned over the forest. The amused chuckle of a distant stream, as well as the distinctive whisper of leaves as they danced in the wind also permeated the lands of Bright Moon.

Despite his lack of expression, Tamlin felt pleased about the situation. He enjoyed the fact that his pack was swelling, and always welcomed the sight of another face on Bright Moon. After all, with a plausible conflict of interests with Abendrot looming on the horizon, it was always good to have more warriors to defend the borders. Also, each time another man or woman was able to find a home within the territory, he felt as though he was fulfilling Satowra's wish for the lands. The charcoal lady had charged him with the maintenance and protection of Bright Moon's wolves and those who wanted to make the place their home. It was his job to keep the pack safe and defend the way of life that they lead. Bright Moon was a place of hope and new growth, and it would always be, despite not having the original Queen on the throne. His lack of social skills had been quite the shortcomings, but in the end, the lithe soldier had conquered his past and bloomed into the articulate, eloquent lord he was today. With his growth Tamlin was just as capable of defending the integrity of the lands as she had been before her untimely departure.

Despite wanting new joiners to come to his lands, the icy king was never the sort to simply overlook infractions. The newcomer’s trespass, however, was an honest mistake, and hence no hint of aggression marred his dominant pose as he spoke to her. He informed the lass of her error, watching with careful eyes as she apologized and withdrew. His own facial expression did not change, but he allowed his meticulously controlled stance to soften slightly in reply to her compliance, recognizing that she was not currently a threat to any member of his lands and that she had no ounce of petty aggression or foolish bravado in her. He deduced that she seemed a fine wolf, intelligent and suitably submissive. He inclined his crown ever-so-slightly in response to her action, thanking her for the speed and civility with which she had acted.

Once over the border, the lady realigned herself and directed her gaze at him. He felt no need to speak for she took the initiative and began at once, dubbing herself as Indigo the Shy and giving him her call-name, Indigo, then stating her intentions on the borders of Bright Moon. Her articulation was elegant, particularly for a wolf who was a self-declared rogue. As Tamlin’s navy gaze travelled over her travel-stained form, his inscrutable navies offered an honest, nonjudgmental assessment. He had never been one to judge a book by its cover, and would not start now. Wolves were creatures of the wild, and not expected to be impeccable groomed at all times.

Not much time had passed after her words when he spoke. The lilting tone in his voice was an undercurrent of music to an otherwise cool statement.

“Thank you, Indigo. My name is Tamlin. You are welcome in Bright Moon.”


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