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 ice kings banner flicked against her flank in a sign of comradery; feeling a little at ease knowing he more than likely wouldn't do anything to harm her. Except, he had before; without knowing that he had. That day at the lake still played in her mind here and there when she was exploring, when she was hunting, or even when she was patrolling the border to make sure no intruders had made it into the territory. Kari couldn't help it, she couldn't help that he'd seen one of her most vulnerable states. Her spirit cracked a little when he had, forcing her to lose a bit of trust in herself that she'd never really gained back. As her fear stemmed from childhood and she knew that; she understood that. But she was never able to get passed it. When the wolves she encountered on her journeys would play in the water, she would turn the other way. No need to delve into it with others, right? Right. But now, she'd brought her alpha into it. She'd brought Kershov into it or rather Kershov had pushed himself into the middle of her and her fear. Which she half appreciated because it meant she could maybe finally get passed it but on the other hand, she didn't like it because this thing that she'd lived with was inevitably going to disappear and she'd be free. Part of her didn't like that.

Words filtered from the kings kissers and into her audits; "“Remember your desire when terror inevitably rears its head.” she had heard it before but not from him, from someone else but she couldn't quite place where or who from. Regardless she nodded as he spoke once more, he spoke so easily. So nicely. And with power behind it. “This mental block of yours . . . this visceral aversion . . . it is as real as a wound stitched into your hide. You know it is there, and you want to heal it—and I believe we can overcome it. I just hope you can withstand the pain of upbraiding that wound.” Nodding slightly she looked towards the water again as a breeze sprayed ocean water atop the alabaster kings feathers, something she was still intrigued by. When Milo was here she too had had feathers, Kari had been intrigued then too. But now it was time to wade through the water until she couldn't.

With a shaky breath in, she started towards the water. With each step she got closer, knowing she was to go as far as she could before she physically could not push herself to do so anymore, absolutely terrified her. Made her want to tuck her plume and run. But instead she kept on. Paws finally hitting the water and she took hesitant steps, carefully placing her feet where they needed to be in the water. Kershov followed close, but not too close as she wade in the water up to her chest, where her pillars met her body. Sighing she stopped and tried to calm her nerves before she started up again. Moving into the water more, she went until it got to her shoulders before she couldn't anymore. Before she couldn't go any further and looked down at the water; then back at Kershov then back at the water as memories started flooding back. Especially when her mother had thrown her into a rushing river only to leave her to fend for herself, she wasn't able to learn how to swim and she couldn't figure it out. From that point forward she couldn't do it. Hesitantly she looked back at Kershov again, the current moving around her pillars. Her voice as low as a whisper, she spoke shakily; "I can't go anymore Kershov. . ."

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