Funhouse

[Svara Thames]

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Svara sat in her optime form on top of a large cave she had found deep in the woods. Her new home was already warmed with some items she had found or stole. The sun was setting as she lay on the top of the large correlation of rocks looking up at the sky where the stars would soon appear. It was one thing she loved to do at night, just gaze at the stars through the opening in the thick trees. Those stars always seemed so boundless to her. They were the most untamed things she knew of, none of them could reach the stars.

Sighing she sat up and her long red hair currtained around her face. Her collar wasn't on her at the moment, since she took it off when she slept. It was in her little cave next to her blankets and pillows. She had herbs of course, nothing could stop the healer in her heart. Svara refused to heal anyone anymore. Not after she had been betrayed so easily. Jumping down from her high perch ontop of the cave she landed in a crouch on the ground. Looking around she didn't see anyone and went into the dark mouth of her house. Lighting a candle in the cave she began to skin a deer to amuse herself.

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[Dawali Amara]

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hai :] come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops The powerful being that carried him forward through lands he knew were claimed made short snorting sounds when he halted her. His face poked out from his body as ears and nose searched the air for signs of what he had thought he had smelled. Surely, someone was around, not that far from here. The Kalona knew very well he was in claimed land; but after the friendly reception at the race, and noticing how their King (for that was what they called him; the title felt strange on his tongue) was quite pleasurable, if peculiar, he felt as if he would not be crossing them by traveling through here. Indeed, he was heading towards Halifax, but he might not. He might go to visit Cwmfen instead - rumors said she had mothered two puppies, and he was glad for her. His form sat still atop the horse, the same horse he had visited these lands with before. She recognized the pack's scent, and was calm, but he was curious: this scent - she had not been at the race. Or had she? He could not remember. The feathers and beaded strands of his mane rustled as a cold wind ripped past him. Gvihita soared above, bored as always, though she had taken to follow him around more lately. Good. He was in need of some understanding companionship —if that was what you could call her. Yellow eyes studied his surroundings as he halfway hoped that whoever she was she would reveal herself. At last he gave up, and his deep voice rang loudly —as it usually did. "Anyone there?"

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