(420) I hope this is okay 
my posts are kind of iffy as of now
Stars hung high in the sky stretched across the Cerceratori d'Arte territory and what was laid out beyond the borders, midnight blue touching the mountaintops with a cream colored moon peering past the shield of its' shining star brethren which obscured a near perfect view. Gnarled tree branches reached for the company of their neighbors, embracing each other - though where the limbs of old and plentiful trees did not meet the silver light of the moon, the wonderful moon who's surface was covered with craters appearing like blemishes in the rocky surface thousands of miles from where the four-legged canine stood, her long fur draping off of her thin and fragile frame, floppy ears folded over as they normally were, though alert and looking for new sounds.
Her amber gaze was glued ahead, watching the un-moving trunk of a brown hued tree, rough bark creating differences in the shades of browns that appeared on its bulging surface. The Australian Shepherd's blue merle coat blended nicely with the surrounding darkness, though the ivory color of her pelt stood out like snow on a black backdrop. With a shake of her head, she shifted to her Optime form, which she had began to prefer more than her more canine-like form. Standing just above five feet tall, Mayflower was below the average for height, though her diminutive features complemented her bashful personality. Her musty pink nose was pointed upwards, thin alabaster whiskers that didn't appear often leaning forwards oddly, floppy ears drawn forwards to search for disruptions in the noise.
Ever since the canine had joined the current pack she resided in, she had kept to the more natural-seeming areas of forest, hastily heading to the main sections of the pack when needed, though that was rare as she was not too important, being a new member with her brother Helios - why, she barely knew her way around the area. Mayflower looked around, reaching for the cloak she had draped around her shoulders no matter what form she was in, as it had managed to slip off of her shoulders while she shifted. Cautiously, she slung the grayish green strip of fabric around her shoulders with an elegant twirl, nimble fingers often used for covering the holes in her eccentrically carved flute tying the cloak around her small shoulders sloped downwards with a slightly depressed fashion. A sign slipped past her maw as she finished, though she was in a fairly good mood, a very common property of her odd personality.
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