Slate blue eyes observed the world around her with an expressionless blankness that was reminiscent of the stones itself. Winter had come to the mountains, the snow falling lightly all around her. A narrow face atop a powerful body, she looked like and obsidian statue not yet finished being carved from the snow as her fur lightened smoothly to match the white of freshly falling powder.

A top a secluded cliff, she watched the rest of the pack from a distance. The loyalty of their race was one of legend. To her that legend was what it was in every sense of the term. Extraordinary. Rare. Merely a story. A story created by fables that had come from dreamers and stargazers. She had been abandoned, orphaned, and alone in more ways than she could have dreamed possible. Spirane held nothing dear to her anymore. It was merely a place she was in. The representation of safety and packlife seemed to be just as much of a lie to her as the concept of loyalty. Daenerys won her battles, presided over the pack, and protected them. ‘Protected’ them. Where had this protector been when her mother had been attacked? Why had no one stepped in when that same mother abandoned them? Who had been there to watch over her and her sister when they were younger? Most of all, why had noone gone to search for her deaf sister when she had gone missing. The largest pack in Moladion and no one batted an eye at a missing puppy. Just like no one looked at the obsidian face gazing through the falling snow.

She had looked. On and off through the seasons she had ventured from the safety of the pack lands, nose to the ground in hopes of finding her deaf sibling. Every time she had strayed too far she remembered the dangers she had been warned about. The only things she remembered about her mother were the words of caution. Danger, she had been told, was all too near. Especially for a young pup. More so for one that could not hear.

Frustration had boiled in her veins for the longest time. She was barely coming up on her third year, years she doubted her sister would ever see. Years of watching adults who simply did not seem to care. Her anger at them had burned white for so long that now it burned in the deceptive embers under the clean surface of her blue eyes. A fire so deep it would take merely a whisper to ignite her blood once again.

Her lip curled in the simmering anger at the thought. They sat around and did nothing. Marvelled in their strength, enjoyed their victories, while she waited. Waited until she could leave. Her body had started to come into its own. She was almost grown now and could feel her strength under her skin when she flexed her paws. It was time for her to take action.

The statue moved like a wraith as she slipped from the cliff and took up her usual pastime of prowling the territory.