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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Not moments after he had paused, a form came hurtling into his own silhouette. The jokester was thrown to the ground, his dial cracking against the tundra with a sick, echoing sound. He had scented her perfume on the gales before she had gotten to him. He had felt the thunder of her footfalls fall on the soil, the harbinger of a soul eater coming to eat his mischevious being alive. Yet, being Jack Frost, the boy did not groan in pain or fight back against her strength. Duo-tone eyes caught his own frosted greyish gaze and he sucked in his breath, a toothy grin spreading across his hoarfrost pallet. Whoa, whoa, whoa... what have we here? That grin was poison on his lips... beautiful yet daring and deviant all the same. He pulled himself to the side, shaking off the prickles of pain that erupted down his spinal and throughout his ribs. Youch. Damn, what was she made of?! Bricks?! He shook himself and flicked his tassel playfully. Do you usually knock males down to the ground as a greeting? That deviant smile deepend greatly. Jack Frost was a lover boy. He never made love to the doves he nested with, but he sure as hell flirted with them. Speaking of doves... whatever had happened to little Eris? His mind went blank for a moment as he tried in vain to recall what she looked like-- or even where he had met her. Eris. Who was she? His shoulders rolled back and popped loudly. No matter. The important thing was in the present. And boy was the present quite a present. Not that I mind that... I mean, who doesn't want to rough-house with such a pretty miss? Ivories gleamed in the forbidden sunlight as he danced from side to side, his audettes twitching as he took in his surroundings. Only one wolf had showed up... and that was this darling lady in front of him. He could easily outrun her-- that is, if he hadn't been thrown to the ground. He was pretty sure that he might have just pulled a muscle or something...





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