that's the hardest part
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The night was dark and cold, and she lay alone in a thicket listening to the sound of snowfall and the occasional click of the Raven’s beak. Cwmfen had only just returned to the packlands of Dahlia de Mai. She had travelled far from its confines to carry out the rites of her Long Nights, and she had taken her time on her return. The woman had needed to think, especially after the completion of the Long Nights, for things that she had not expected had occurred. On the night of the full moon, she had heard the voices of her ancestors, and they had revealed much to her. But they had required her to finish off the rite with a final initiation into womanhood, one that had required her to fall into the embrace of a carnal beast. Ironically, that beast had been Haku, Dahlia de Mai’s Lilium. The woad-marked warrior turned over, her hand reaching for the spear that lay beside her. Soon she would need a sword, and a shield, perhaps.... The black luperci attempted to occupy her mind with such thoughts, but it was in vain, for her mind was already occupied by other, more intimate things—things that had been new. Things that she found that she had liked....



Sighing, the woad warrior rose, her lithe, toned form fluid and silent even as they pushed past the winter branches. She held the spear lightly in her hand, testing its weight absent mindedly. The song of the weapon rang idly in her mind, and she listened to it for a moment, closing her eyes to savor this strange, new sound. Then, shaking the snow from her coat, the Lierre strode silently, deep in thought once more. Vaguely, she was aware of the beating wings that sounded above her as she departed, and, while the Raven never spoke, she was glad of his company. His soul was a strange dark thing, and she turned that concept over in her mind like a cool stone in the hand. Sometimes, she would hold the bird to her when it was cold, and he would allow her to hold him, and the feeling of her fingers running through his feathers gave her a strange feeling, as if it was a familiar thing from the past....



Cwmfen ceased, her posture erect and alert. The red-dipped kill-feather flitted in the wind. She brought the spear to her side, but planted it in the deepening snow. The white orbs watched ahead, for the sound of approach was clear in the silence. It was not a familiar sound, nor was the scent, when it reached her, recognized. The woad-marked tail flickered behind her in anticipation. She wondered, then, what this creature was doing so deep in Dahlian territory.... She considered the possibility that another pack member may have granted it access into the lands, but she discarded the notion when she realized that the approaching wolf was alone. A solitary character did not characterize a guest, and thus the black female became wary. But she merely stood there, awaiting the visual appearance of the other. Her posture may have suggested that she held some high rank, but this was not true. The black female merely understood her own capabilities, and she was prepared to put those capabilities to use should they be required.



She was surprised to discover that the approaching one was a male. She did not know why such a fact surprised her. Perhaps she was merely not expecting a male, though she thought that it would characterize a male to penetrate into the territory. Usually, Cwmfen would have been amicable and good-natured, but she did not like that this male had disregarded the formalities of another, especially this pack that had accepted her. Swiftly, the white orbs swept over the male, noting the piercings, eyes, pencil, and lack of weapon. Thus, the Lierre felt no need to raise her own, but let her woad-banded hand remain upon the shaft to provide a physical warning. As she spoke, the Raven, the epitome of her Dream, appeared out of the flurry of snow, landing dramatically upon her extended arm. The one-eyed blackbird clicked his beak, regarding the large, slim male before her. Cwmfen showed no sign of regarding him, but inwardly, she listened to the song of his soul, searching for any sign of warning.



“Who are you?” The sweet, silver-toned melody cut clearly through the cold and the snow. “Why are you here, so deeply beyond the boarders. Do you have no respect for others? Such disregard should be regarded as dangerous.” The woad-marked fae spoke quietly but clearly to the male. While the alto voice held no immediately apparent threat, there was a warning in her undertones. The white orbs made an open challenge by meeting his gaze. She would know soon enough what personality this creature was.




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