Perhaps she had been a bit lost without the True Angel to guide her. Life had been an odd experience since she was but a small pup. Today, she is but a giant, a true daughter of her father. Phaedra was nothing to take lightly. Her forms was heavy with muscle and even her face with chiseled, touch with a look of wildness that does not conform to one gender or the other. This was only compounded by her rather stunning and unique look, of black blending to russet red blending to gold tan at her belly- a true sunset of a wolf if there ever was one.

In fact, she was mirroring the world around her, with the sun coming down to set upon the horizon over a bed of disturbed snow. The fields are open and the it had snowed a day or so ago. She often found herself still sticking around near Diveen, but not exactly hanging around in the pack either. Yes, it was her brother who ruled, but Phaedra was a black sheep of the family- the odd one out. It never really bothered her though. They were indeed mistaken Angels, not following the true path, but Phaedra's mind was soothed in this moment as her massive paws stomp carelessly on snow until she comes in view of the lake.

She finds a decent spot, a group of rocks with one rather large and flat for her to lay upon as she watched the fire ball in the sky very slowly sink down. It will be a time before it actually becomes dark, and the warped mind of the crazed female was pleased to witness this sunset on this day. It was a time of power, when day transformed to night. It was a time when things morph and senses become changed as well. The light of the True Angel would fall to that of shadow, another truth that she knew- every Angel had a shadow. Her large form plops against the rock and her nebulous violet and gold eyes would simply watch ahead, her own head rolling from one side to the other every now and then. In her mind, the sun was not just a simple light, but almost a religious figure, something deep and spiritual induced by her many trips from the mushrooms she consumed over her life. A moment like this was always to be cherish, worshiped perhaps, her head rolling back to where her neck would almost look to snap as she howls. Oh does she howl, and her voice is not a delicate one. It is one of power, on the deeper side that would strike an uneasy chord in many. It was the song she would sing for her True Angel, here or not, and the song she would sing to the light of life until it fades into that of the shadowed stars.