08-11-2010, 09:13 PM
A ghost moved across the plains that night, swift as a snowshoe hair on an icy tundra. Her feet could barely be seen to be touching the earth beneath her paws and sea blue eyes pierced the moon light as sharp as her fangs. The she-wolf streaked effortlessly past the trees, startling small creatures that hugged the shadows for safety. At last, as he reached the top of a small hill, a vast village stood twinkling with thousands of lights below her that looked as if it promised comfort and company. Her tongue lolled happily from her white muzzle as visions of future stories danced in her head. Raising her white plumed tail confidently, Larka trotted down toward the village, her senses almost instantly engulfed with new sights and smells, sounds, and even the ground beneath her felt different. Many wolves and Luperci wandered about, and she suddenly felt small on her four legs as the standing Luperci followed her with piercing gazes.
