Cercatori D'Arte
#3
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Lucia had left home. She simply walked away, leaving the Valley pack that had raised her without as much as a second glance. She was chasing foolish dreams, something new and exciting, and it felt right. Despite her nerves, she felt invigorated, and the farther west she traversed, the more her excitement grew. A couple of weeks ago she would have found the idea absurd that she would be running off to help form the ranks of a new pack, yet here she was. That Shawchert fellow she met in the city had told her to come out here, and she was almost surprised at how blindly she had accepted this. She could only hope that this was real, and that she had not come all the way out here for nothing.


But as the afternoon wore on, it brought with it a sweet, high pitched melody--it was him! It was true! A fresh rush of excitement filled her, calling forth a shameless smile to her lips. The girl picked up her pace and followed the music, the hem of her purple dress swishing against her calves. The Marino girl navigated through the forest, quickly finding her way to the small clearing where the large Shawchert and an unknown wolf were waiting. She came to a halt a short distance from the two, settling what she carried with her on the grass: and old backpack filled with books and small trinkets she couldn't bear to leave behind, and the case that held the guitar she'd scavenged from the city. "Hi, Shawchert," she greeted with a smile, the excitement pulling her into a rather uplifted mood. "And hello to you, too," she said to the other girl. This must be one of the others that Shaw had convinced to join. How many of them would there be?

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