The world is a wonderful place for a beautiful she-wolf possessed of a self-awareness of her own being. Kaiya was such a beast, slender of frame, pure white of coat, perpetually at ease within her cloud of sultry self-assuredness. From a young age, barely a teen, she had been pursued relentlessly by other wolves of all genders and affiliations. Everyone had wanted to become close to this sauntering, ghost-like femme. And so, from a young age, Kaiya had known that she held power.

Moving silently through the autumnal forest she felt that power glowing within her, spilling out through her soft amber gaze, tugging the edges of her mouth up into a gentle curve, radiating from the tip of every hair of her snowy coat. It slowed her gait, causing her slight build to sway side to side with every velvet-footed step. It allowed her tongue to loll from one side of her smiling mouth, a half-laugh always in the back of her throat. The picture of perfect ease, there was no trace of tension nor high-alert to be found in the femme’s countenance despite her unfamiliar surroundings. She knew, as she had always known, that the power she held within her, of her, would serve her well in any circumstance she might happen to stumble across. She knew no fear.

Her easy gait brought her to the edge of the trees. A bright meadow spread before her, still holding its green despite winter’s steady approach. She lifted her slender muzzle to scent the air only briefly before leaving the cover of the trees, hardly bothering to break her stride. She could think of nothing dangerous that could be hiding in a place so lovely, and so moved out confidently into the bright sunshine.

The tall grasses and wildflowers showed only the faintest hints of the season’s advance. She looked upon their colour with joy choosing, with the confidence of one who is accustomed to seeing the world only as she wants it to be, to ignore the slight browning at the edges of the petals, the faint dry rustle of the grass. A cool wind blew down from the north and she lifted her head to meet it. Far in the distance she could make out a far less hospitable scene; a dry and barren tundra. Ignored, an unpleasantry dismissed along with the droop of the flowers’ petals. Turning to the south, for out of sight was out of mind, she could make out a vague sea of red. Even at this distance, the cloying, sickly sweet fragrance was unmistakable: poppies. Here was a danger that her distinctive power could not thwart, and she resolved to stay well clear of the red blur on the horizon.

The weak autumn sun beat down from above, surprisingly warm now that she had left the shelter of the trees. Perhaps a nap would not be out of order, for soon winter would make such frivolities impossible. Despite being born of the Arctic, the femme did so detest winter and all her hardships and impositions. Best to enjoy these last few sunny weeks as long as she was able. There, in the middle of the open meadow, in plain sight of any who might be watching, the snowy she-wolf upturned herself casually into the grass, throwing all four feet straight up into the air.

She enjoyed a good romp among the plants, writhing and wriggling in an almost puppy-like fashion. She relished the feeling of stiff grass blades breaking beneath her back, laughed out loud at the dust cloud that rose up around her as she rolled. Finally, with a satisfied grunt, she flipped back to lie on her belly, stretching her long slender forelegs out before her with a yawn. She poked her head up above the vegetation to gaze lazily around. For a long time she remained thus, eyes half-shut, basking in the warmth of the sun above. Ah, the joys of being alive on a day such as this!

Movement at the edge of the patch of flattened grass she had created caught her attention and her ears and eyes snapped as one to its source. But it was only a field mouse, no doubt looking for some hidden trail which she had destroyed in her play. She made a half-hearted swipe at the tiny thing with one paw, missing by a wide margin. No matter. She had neither the energy nor the desire to give chase. As the mouse fled squeaking into the grass, she pulled her limbs in about her, draped her bushy tail across the tip of her snout, and fell into an easy doze.

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