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Silver and white seemed to rise slowly with anticipation as she inhaled the scent of the second pack she had helped form here in these wasted lands. This was home for many, but she knew that she would remain a restless spirit until death finally remembered that she still remained while all the rest of them were gone. Eyes of liquid silver travelled across known curves and familiar shapes, though Phoenix Valley would not be the same. Years had passed; nothing seemed able to wait for her. Not that she expected things to remain the same—this she had learned the hard way over and over, yet she seemed to fail to realize that she stood here, helpless. The eerie white form of the petite canine battled snow and grey scenery, but scent would reveal her to any, and a keen eye would always manage to separate the living from its eerie surroundings.
Paws held a tint of pink, but there was no pain searing through the shallow cuts beneath her soft, black clawed paws. She was accustomed to her travels by now, though never the lonely facade that built up around her solitude. It was her curse to carry though; a burden she had been chosen to bear. She did so without pride or joy. Life had not been given to her just for the sake of living. Her life was over, so what was she doing here? Never once did she break through the invisible border that warned her about the group’s claim. There was a scent here, one that she knew she should recognize, and it tore at her mind that she could not immediately do so. A black nose floated inches above the frozen ground, but she would remain oblivious, she assumed.
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