Deep seated rage bubbles within my chest as I am forced to forget my ideal lands, Diveen is a gift to the ones called Angels, it seems. Kane and Isola are strong and capable in their leadership, not once faltering in giving me the ass whooping I deserve. Still, the sting of defeat is a hard one to recover from, and though my new scars have long been healed - the strength in my jaw is back in full force, thanks to a rather painful series of events. I have overcome the obstacles the Angels have given me. The tears in my skin have become hairless pink scars, the dislocated jaw twisted and popped into place upon the carcass of a deer. As I said, the process was painful. Did the Purge scream when I did this? Oh, yes. I sang a veritable praise to Isola's ears. I remained close to Diveen's borders, just to give her this song of pain, of recovery. Though, the Angel Queen may mistake these for screams of further dismay. I care little, I do not have my eye upon them any more. Perhaps, I would then turn upon the Iromanians? No, I have something set with them, but the extent is not yet set in stone.

I smirk, wondering if Kane would be interested in sparring with me in time, after all, I would need a friend to fight with, and why not someone who can keep pace - and indeterminately out run me? Alas, it seems I have stumbled upon a land that deceives the mind as far as size goes, Isola proving to be quite the little mind fuck when it came to a fight. Flitting all over, and hardly being slow enough to catch in the devastating power of my grip. Though, she would also prove to be a fantastic sparring companion, like her partner, and would teach me so much more than what I have already learned. My silence will never mean I am being still, I train myself, finding the strongest prey - or predator competitors: cougars, coyotes, and bears, oh my! But, I find some of the prey have more to teach me. I can be quick, as well. My frame changing to meet these new requirements, becoming lighter over the winter season.

Deer, fast and sure-footed through root and dirt alike, water and mud proving nothing against them as they hop-bounded through it. These have brought my large bodice to a new strength in my weight class, something that many have yet to offer. Agility and speed are quickly becoming easy to maintain, my muscles going from the bulk and heft from the north, giving me a more graceful - though still quite large - and feminine - though still strong - frame. I have learned to ignore the buckling of my toes, the stinging tingle it sends up my legs from my paw as if it has no circulation. Though my jaw pops loudly when I lay pressure upon it to bite, the force is enough to break deer legs in half now. I have strength enough to go against the young bears who are starved after winter-long hibernation, speed enough to race the cougar and take him down. I have become a plague to the resident competition, the predators all hate the sight of me, many turning and running at the mere scent upon the air. It would be smart if any wolf would take heed to do the same.

Either way, I have aged to ten this spring, I should have a kingdom by now. I want to be ruling up where all will look to me. Everyone can see the mountains in Moladion, it has been looming on me since I came here. Only now have I thought of the view. I come to the border of Spirane, large white paws taking my new supple frame up the heights to the very tallest peak. I have found a home once more, and this one looks like Bardena. I have heard of the shaman queen, and her spiritual mate in this land, and I have heard of the recent turmoil the wolves here undergo as their queen is away more and more. So here I am, moving into the heart of your land, challenging you for your right to lead. I howl for the queen, beckoning her and sending my message from her land. Come face me Corona Celena. If you dare.