Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.

Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.

Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:

"Do you have what it takes?"

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The Spartan smiled, something he hadn't done in forever. His happiness seemed only matched my Kershovs, his tail wagging with his own. Finally he had found his King, the only wolf besides his Father that he ever looked up to as a true leader. While Kershov looked merely like he hadn't changed at all, Mabbit had grown nearly twice his size. His muscles grew larger and he grew bulkier. His height almost had him matching in Kershovs as well. He had grown well, and grown a lot. “Grey Wind . . .” Kershov spoke, and as he did the gray male stepped out of the shadows.

"Hello, Mabbit." Mabbit smiled at his brother. "Grey, it's great to see you again." He spoke, and then looked to Kershov once more as the King began to speak. “I know you Mabbit—your worth and your loyalty as a wolf. You are welcome here.” The Spartan graciously gave him another smile, stepping closer and onto Bright Moon soil to rejoin his packmates once more. It felt amazing to finally be with familiar faces again, though he had wished he could see Azula one last time. Part of him wanted to ask about her, while another part wanted to just let there be hope out there for him that she was still living.

“Let us find something to kill, so we can catch up over a steaming carcass. I’m starving.” Mabbit nodded and watched as the ghostly King disappeared into the fog. The Spartan trailed closely behind, his paws ripping at the ground underneath him. He had hoped to catch sight of anyone he knew but didn't seem to find anyone. He sighed in between exhaling, wondering what had happened to Halina, Scarlett Nights, and the rest of them. He was sure Kershov knew and would tell in time. He even dawned on why Kershov himself had left, but he pushed it out of his cranium, assuming all would be revealed in time.









This War Is Ours
MABBIT

| Stark | Mate | Brother of Grey Wind | Home |
METALHEAD



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