the only

Coal paws touched the harsh ground of the land known as the battlefield, though this demented queen did not know that yet. She was a refugee. A woman escaped from war. A war she created by her own greed. She held no remorse, no heartache for those who were close to the King whom she fell. It was simple, really. She was a survivor. She would survive regardless the repercussions, no matter the cost. She was Queen. She will be Queen. In time.

A sneer poisoned her lips as she continued on, fighting the urge to call out. Had no one lived on this damned continent? Her lungs heaved a sigh, stinging slightly at the excess moisture in the air. She was used to desert air, dry and heated. Calico patterned coat bounced with beautiful health on each step, though she looked none too feminine. Sure she had the figure of a woman, but her posture.. her shoulders hunched forward, her back lurched upward. She had the worst, and there wasn't a person alive who could tell she had once reigned supreme over an entire Kingdom unless they asked. She halted midstep, squinting those viridian eyes. She could've swore she saw something.