a pen, the weapon of poets.

Zana Avaya Lykoi · 10-30-2011, 05:30 PM

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dampwood.

Zana rode Saol quietly through the woods, plotting out a careful course so not to land the horse into the underground den of some rodent. She had strapped across her back the staff that she often used to gain access to greater heights. The woman was well viced in it's uses as well but had not had the chance to work out with it lately but a few dances upon the beaches of Inferni under the dark cast skies. She had thought it wise to bring it with her from hence forward since she had been lingering along the borders of other packs, scoping out the lands and learning a thing or two from their people. It seemed that her pintsize had it's uses after all.. if she could keep her wits and temper about her.

Her stallion was in jolly spirits as he pranced along, the mite of a woman riding steady upon his back as she looked about the lands. The horse was bringing her to a small meadow where he slowed to a crawl. She knew what the beast wanted and with a soft chuckle to herself she nimbly leaped from the beast's back and watched as he roamed the field riderless, looking for the last of the sweat clover in the wild grasses of the lands. With a swish of his tail he trotted further away, delighting in what he found there as Zana let him be.

The tiny Lykoi scratched at her neck slightly before sighing and pulling the staff from it's ties about her cloak. She figured there was no place better to practice her staff than here on smooth ground with the soft feel of clover beneath her paws. Slowly she began the twists and turns of one of the simple pattern dances that would warm her up before she moved onto something else.

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