ooc:
A soft breeze compelled the woman to rise from the lush blades of the fragrant valley and lift her muzzle to taste the delectable Spring upon her tongue. It was a delicacy that only Nature compose and gift to her earthbound children starved during the winter of her affections. It was taste that no child of the earth should be without, and by the will of the ancestors, the Nomad was content to indulge so long as the Great Mother was willing.
And upon these winds were the companion owls aloft, savoring the winds by a different means but indulging just as profusely none the less. She witnessed the warming sight of a master and apprentice gliding along the winds, the great owl teaching the aspiring fledging how to coast and cut through the wind with her growing wings. There was some sentience in these movements guided by what the great owl had learned from the autumn wolf below, but predominantly, there was instinct in these maneuvers that the woman could not teach. He was teaching the young owl to be as she was and use her wings to achieve the very reaches he soared upon daily. It was inspiring, truly. And the longer she watched from her bed of flora, the more she longed for those days with her Shepard.
Yet as the winds invoked this lovely memory, they too brought a melodious song from the borders. Her ears danced excitedly to the distant song and was lured into fully standing and taking stride toward the land’s welcoming border. Her escorts remained high within their azure road, surveying what transpired below with eyes keen and waiting for a signal for their descend. But there was none that they saw, only the weaving form of an autumn leaf on the wind bounding through the high grass toward a more level plain. She captured the scent before her eyes caught sight of both wolf and equine waiting patiently at the stone drawn line. She raised her voice in greeting to their distant forms til her purposeful stride drew her closer to better see and welcome them properly. Humbly, the female lowered her flower and feather accented head. “Goodday to you,” she uttered softly. Comfortably she seated herself down on her haunches. “I am X’yrin, an Exultare of the distant Nomads and High Shepard to this pack. These lands you near are claimed for Ichika no Ho-en.” And as the woman lifted her head, she smiled. “Welcome. May I ask who you are?”