mall-caps;letter-spacing:4px;">THE SPARK OF DAWNHer usually stoic features flushed with surprise as the dog-pelt woman opened her mouth to speak. Daughter of the snake. A bearpaw-clad hand rose to touch the scarified, snake-shaped mural that adorned her shoulders — how did she know what power the snake held for the Eternian? Who was she? What else did she know? Sunset eyes narrowed on the features of the older female, ears flattening out as her head stuck out at an ugly angle. Who was this woman? She had come to join Salsola, the 'great pack' of Salsola, and seemed to know more than she should. "You do not simply join us. Who ahre you, womahn? How do you know what you know?" The words were accusatory, but she desired to know more of this woman's mind.
She paced the border slowly, all the while keeping her gaze upon the features of the stranger in case her motives were not the best of motives. There would be no taking advantage of the young Crone. She was strong, she was smart, she was powerful. She was a daughter of the Sun, golden child of Momotztli, a coyote in all but the deepest signs of blood. Larkspur had been right — her kind were crafty. She stopped to lean, the rabbit swinging in her grasp, taking in the scent of the creature who had disturbed her nightly ritual. What was she? A witch? A creature of shadows and magic and knowing, not like she and Eris who were of blood and finding, or was she? "Why did you come here."
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