Life has a funny way of coming full circle, she thought as her large paws carried her back into the lands of her birth. Her gait is a smooth trot for she is in no hurry, the rippling of powerful muscles visible just beneath her dark coat as it shone in the late autumn sun. Already her body had begun to respond to the return of the winter chill, the normally long hair which flowed smoothly over her heavy body thickening and giving the hair around her neck and throat even more body. She is an imposing figure, black as night save for the brilliant golden blonde and cinnamon that covered her broad chest, yet despite her toned physique she is still beautiful. It is thanks to her mother, no doubt, who’s fine, sculpted features and slender waist she had inherited; she was more than worth the second look she typically garnered.

She had never doubted her worth, Heyel had seen to it that his children and his children’s children always knew exactly who they were and that they were meant for greatness. While she may not have the same dedication he did to hair care, she knew she would never be nothing. It is this fact that had driven her to leave her homeland, to make more of herself. There were too many shadows that she might live in if she had simply stayed in the badlands. The shadow of her mother, the only Queen Diveen had ever known, of her elder brother the ‘chosen’ one, of the great Heyel himself. No, she had to leave to find her true center without relying on any of them, and that was just what she had done. Her legacy would be of her own making.

And so she had left to train and build upon the foundations she had been given. Perhaps she would never have returned, for she had grown content and complacent in the life she carved out for herself, until a series of dreams began to plague her. Nightmares, more like. She had seen her father locked in battle, her mother dejected, leaving her home, Heyel’s bloody form lying prone on the ground. These images and more plagued her sleep one night until she awoke in a cold sweat, heart racing as a thunderstorm broke overhead. It was this storm that had her up on her feet, sides heaving as she panted to calm herself, staring at the tumultuous skies until a fork of lighting hit the tree she had been laying beneath only moments ago.

With that she turned tail and headed back to the lands from whence she had come so many years ago. Days and nights she had traveled until her dark form finally broke over the ridge that looked down into the sprawling lands of Moladion. She could see the towering spires of Spirane to the West, the sprawling forests of Taviora below, but her eyes were focused on the east where she knew craggy landscape of her homeland awaited. She padded through the common lands with little ado, avoiding speaking to anyone who might approach. Little had changed here that she could see, the rivers still ran, the trees still stood, and yet something wasn’t right. Perhaps it was just the lingering feeling from the dreams that still troubled her with their possible meanings, but she could not shake the feeling as she neared the western border of the badlands

It is at this border that she stops, not that she needs to for this land was her birthright as much as any of Angel blood, but something was wrong. Her large head lowered to the dusty grasses, inhaling deeply before sneezing out the scents in confusion. There was little trace of Isola and Kane at the borders here, a fact which caused her tail to twitch in consternation. Instead she scented Achilles as the dominant marker, though underneath lay a more feminine scent mixed with a foreign male. A low growl rumbled in her throat, this did not make sense. Why was Isola no longer queen? Surely she hadn’t yet handed down the throne to her upstart of an older brother.

As the growl dissolved in her throat she moved forward again, veritably leaping over the border and winding her way down the familiar paths in to the heart of Diveen. Finally she scaled a small rock formation that gave her a sweeping view of the pack lands below, concerned that she saw little movement. With that she tipped her white-jawed head back, releasing a summons that demanded a presence, demanded an explanation of what had happened here. Damn the fact that she technically had little right to it, she deserved to know, and more so needed to know who’s ass she needed to kick.