Slowly the little wolf moves across the plain, her white form barely visible in the grasses as she moves through the land she has grown up in. They were pretty when the night fell, and the young Satanican princess had always preferred the darkness. Taking her time, Melisandre tries to make sure she does not step in any gopher holes, the fear of such is ever present. Unfortunately, Melisandre inherited none of her mother's grace and is constantly hurting her little white paws. She had twisted her ankle on her front paw in a hole dug by ground hogs once.

The grass had begun to lose the green of summer and was slowly turning brown, the trees were changing too, and all over Moladion there was a smell she could not place in the air. It was pleasant, lovely to the nose, but the blood crowned princess still could not describe exactly what this new season smelled like. She loved it! Not paying attention can cost you a fortune, and Melisandre has since stopped watching her path and only looked around at her home as she moved closer and closer to the king without ever realizing it. She had not understood why the plains were suddenly lacking for wolves to talk to, nor why the scent of Asteraia herself had begun to change from the scent of Jaidah to the scent of an older female.

Her left paw slips on something sharp, and a loud yelp signals the misstep, Melisandre looking down to the the sharp edge of a jutting rock in the ground with a line of blood on the stone. A few more stains appear on the grass, and Melisandre sniffs at them, smelling only herself and blood, lapping at the red on the ground. A delayed pain lances its way up her leg from her paw and those sickly green orbs are moving to the pad of her tender foot. A wide gash in the largest pad of her paw that bled rather badly had resulted from the pup's slip on the sharp rock.

Urgency hits her as she moves across the grasses, her three-legged pace nothing like it would have been had she been a full fledged yearling. She is still months away from that happening, and her small figure bouncing on three legs runs off blinded by stinging tears in her eyes to her mother. She does not see Tobias until it is too late, her eyes widening as she tries to skid to a halt, unable to stop in time to keep her from colliding with him. Hoping the wolf simply stepped back, she bark-cries out to the towering shadow in the night, should she collide with him or merely stop at his paws it did not matter. Blood leaked from the gash in her paw pad, and now she had a complete stranger to contend with before she got home to her mother's den. Fear drove straight into the Satanican princess's heart, knowing that wolves like her father lived here in the plain, and a new queen meant the only thing to keep others from attacking one another was trust.

She was a smart little thing, but perhaps not smart enough. Lifting herself on three legs, Melisandre moves to flee despite her handicap, only wanting her mother in these moments and not the strange hulking he beast who she had literally run into. Her mother could make her feel better, this stranger was unknown and foreign to a girl who has grown up knowing true nightmares exist and that she is one of them. It does not stop instinctive fear of strangers to know you are only a pint sized snack to a wolf his size, and in a land of darkness it is not good to be an underdog.