she is terribly small, it is true. smaller for the way she tucks in on herself and curls her tail up to her nose settled between her paws. a makeshift den of leaves and thorns and other bramble-stuffs. it is not something she is terribly good at hiding in, her color is so very noticeable in this weather and scenery, after all, but she tries for the sake of weary feet and entirely too lonely a heart.
lonely and hurting.
she has been these two things often and for various reasons, though the first has been even amongst many and the latter has been in utter isolation. being an omega is a task set to wolves like her without question - small and meek and terribly vulnerable… but also light on their feet, easy to bring to joy, and positively infectious when meaning to play. omega and yet not the wretched kind of wolf so many mistake omega’s to be. she is not tatty looking, not chewed up in fur, not disgraceful in countenance. she is petite and lovely, and when praetor pokes his nose in the direction, she is positively as flighty as a sparrow.
he speaks and she bolts from her cover, recognizing that to be encased in the shrubbery also allowed her to be trapped, only she does not flee so much as free her little body to do so by putting herself into more open surroundings. “if you like,” she says, voice bright and head curious and high while her tail tucked low as she ought to have done with her head. her ears are perked, though, and her head is tilted with the slightest lean forward - nostrils twitching as if to decipher who he was, as if she would know.
She had come to see if her sister had survived, had come across a few loners who decisively told her if she didn’t smell her, then she was killed by some meteor (imagine her surprise) and she ought give up her search. She was no longer Temperance, then, by the laws of her home. She was Prudence. Eldest daughter… only she would not return home knowing this. They would send her sister in another direction and the name Prudence would die with the first and second born - believed to be their litter’s cursed name. She would let wisdom live on and restraint would become the head of her pack with the nominated Justice at her side.
Ah politicking that she could not understand, traditions that had been barely explained but in stories and rumors -- if the stories held true, then courage would become the general instead of the storyteller of courageous deeds. Her only brother - only surviving brother, as any others would have been determined illegitimate - would enjoy his new place as warrior. He never did suit the calm lifestyle that would have befell him if she had returned to name herself Prudence....
“You....” she says almost so quiet it might have been to herself, “are beautiful...” and truly, he is in an alien way. she is not naturally colored, as some would claim, but the red of the wolves of moladion would distract anyone with a lick of sense to the normalcy outside it.