Kaiya was a foreigner in Blossom Forest. This was as much apparent in her strange northern accent as it was in her thick, ivory coat. The latter was a mark of her true homeland, a place far to the north of the temperate forests, and it kept her in perpetual contrast against their earthen hues of green and brown. No matter where she travelled the girl stood out sharply, having no hope of blending in with the boreal backdrop. Her frame, slender and pure white, had been built for camouflage in her arctic home, not here amongst the trees. She had travelled to a place so far from familiarity on the trail of a rumor, a great tale of a powerful magic that supposedly suffused the region. Leaving behind all that she had known in the north, she had come to Blossom to see if the whispers were true.

Almost immediately upon her arrival she had been satisfied that they were indeed. Her journey had not been for nothing. Magic flowed through this place as water through a stream. It was evidenced everywhere, indescribably tangible in the very earth and air of the forest. Sunlight here seemed brighter, water tasted sweeter, but most obvious of all were the transformations of the beasts of the land themselves. She had seen impossible things even in her few short weeks in Blossom. Wolves proudly carrying massive crowns of antlers the likes of which she had only seen previously atop the heads of prey animals. Others were sheathed in glimmering scales like living armor, while still others wore dense cloaks of feathers. Surely these attributes of other animals had been gifts of the magic, and Kaiya herself yearned desperately to receive such a gift.

She came from the north on the trail of the magic, but at her heels snapped a great horror, spurring her southward flight. She had been a lover, once. A mother, once. But her mate had fallen prey to that strange sickness that sometimes grips first time wolf fathers, and he had turned upon her and her newborns, no longer the loving mate, the attentive sire, but a ravenous, slavering monster. He had taken them from her, ripped them from her very breast, and would have taken her in the same fashion if not for the fleetness of her feet. The cruel caricature of her love’s face that monster had worn was forever etched into her memory, and she had vowed to never lie with another male again. She was certain that her heart could not bear the weight of another such loss, and so season after season she denied the very call of Nature herself and forsook all temptation. She made a game of toying with bachelor wolves, for she found them all too willing to bend their will to her beauty, but never did she allow them to come too close.

But she was growing tired of her game, and the call of Nature was growing stronger. The emptiness inside her was like a beast apart, gnawing at her, reminding her constantly of that instinct of all female wolves; of motherhood, of love and of nurture. More and more often she caught herself sniffing out sheltered dens, only half-aware of why, and had to wrench herself away. Now, with the turning of the season to winter, the gnawing, the instinct, the call, all were growing louder and more persistent.

She would not surrender herself again until she was certain of her ability to defend herself and her family should the terrible madness find her again. She hoped against hope that such things did not occur in a land so outwardly peaceful but knew this to be foolhardy. Instead she sought the magic of Blossom, following its trail whenever she could pick it up, and prayed that one day it might so endow her as it had the others. Perhaps with one of its strange gifts she could once again, at last, feel a degree of true safety.

On this morning she had awoken early; the trail of the magic had appeared again, and this time was stronger than she had felt it before. Unconscious footfalls led her in the direction of Glaesfaet, the mighty river than ran its surging course untampered through the forest. As she approached through the misty dawn, a terrible scream sounded from somewhere not far ahead. She froze in a momentary terror, then plunged on with renewed vigor. Surely sprouting antlers from one’s brow was not a pleasant process; perhaps the magic was giving out its gifts at this very moment!

She burst from the cover of the trees, a joyful, hopeful expression spread over her snowy face. This rapidly melted into unabashed awe, for the river before her was not one of water but one of pure gold. Phantom shapes leapt above its banks – fish. The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the canopy above and played across its surface. It was resplendent, and Kaiya could hardly contain her excitement. Here at last was the magic she had sought for so long. Here at last was the magic that had the potential to gift her a form of protection, of security. Here was the magic that might save her from her pursuing, suppressing nightmare.

She bounded carelessly to the water’s edge and peered down at the flowing nectar. Her own features were shown back to her in streaks of glimmering gold. She could feel – practically smell – the magic’s power radiating from the river. She lifted one ivory paw above the surface, ready to plunge it in directly and receive whatever this awesome power might bestow upon her – but the memory of the scream she had heard moments ago gave her pause. Limb retracted, she glanced about her and caught sight of a mighty brute laid flat on one side near the tree line. He was unconscious, his muzzle marked as through he himself had been clawing at it in a great frenzy. Her heart thudded uncertainly in her chest. If this was the doing of the magic, if it could bring a beast twice her size to the ground, perhaps she should give it a wide berth. On the opposite bank she spotted another female dressed in a coat as white as her own, save for her legs. These were sheathed in a brilliant chainmail of scales, like that of a snake. This femme merely sat, staring as though in a deep trance. The sight of her renewed Kaiya’s courage, and reminded her of why she had come to this place at all. If one so close in body to herself could survive the magic’s transformation, surely she would come to no harm. With a final worried glance back at the unconscious wolf on her own bank, she extended her paw out over the water’s surface once more. This time she did not hesitate, but plunged the limb in confidently up to the elbow.

She knew not what happened next, for as soon as her flesh hit the magic-laced water, her ivory frame collapsed, wholly unconscious, onto the muddy bank.

| . | . | Khett | . | . |