As evening encroached over Boreas and the sun slunk slowly beyond the western horizon, casting the sky in a rich sea of navies, purples, and reds, Satira sat on a small hill just outside her family's den. She knew her mother would be calling for her to come inside soon, but she couldn't. Not yet, anyway. Not until she'd gotten to see all the sparkly lights in the sky. Asla had told her and her brother stories about the beauty of the nighttime sky, but she'd only gotten to see a glimpse of it once the day prior. She wanted to see it properly and see all the wonder and splendor her mother had regaled her with. As day faded into night and light slipped into darkness, Satira waited with an anxious sway to her tiny pudgy body. Her pale blue eyes were transfixed on the darkening sky, waiting for the lights to appear. The moon already hung large in the sky, reflecting a beautiful silver light, but there were still no stars!

Pouting a little, Tira stomped an impatient paw on the ground. Hurry up, lights! Mom's gonna get mad at me if you don't hurry up! she thought to herself. A few more minutes crept by, but there was still too much light, the sun clinging on for as long as possible in the late summer evening. Fireflies had begun to appear, and although she also liked the flashing little insects, she was more interested in the lights in the sky. If they ever bothered to show up, that is!

"Satira Fatalis"

It was still new and strange and terrifying. Mortis was an uncle. He had been too scared to hold them when they were tiny little things. Scared that his clumsy big paws would squish or hurt those innocent creatures. When he had first looked at Satira and Ark, he had cried. Cried, because they were so beautiful and innocent, and he knew he would do anything to shield them from the world.

The young heir was thinking about those little lives when he happened upon Satira, sitting on a small hill, head craned towards the sky. He settled in beside her, but not too close. Still hyper aware of how tiny and fragile she was beside him. “Hey Tira, whatcha looking at?”

"Mortis Fatalis"

The soft rustling of the high grasses near her brought Satira's bright blue eyes down to find the massive form of Mortis approaching with that gentle smile he always had on his face. Tira's expression brightened immediately. "Hi, Uncle Mortis!" she greeted him in her dulcet lyrics. Behind her, her tiny tail began to wag fiercely, happy to have company with her. He asked what she was looking at, and Satira turned her gaze back up to the annoying sky. "I wanted to see the lights Mama keeps talking about," she explained while searching for the stars that were evading her thanks to the lingering evening sun, "but they're being frustrating."

A little pout hung on her lips, turning her eyes from the blank and boring sky back to her infinitely more interesting uncle. He was so big, and he had wings and the sharp teeth Grandpa Sirius had! Rising to her feet, Satira boldly closed the distance between them to come sit right beside Mortis' massive paw, just about the size of his singular foot. She leaned her head against his ankle and looked back up at the sky again. "Could you fly up there if you wanted to?" she asked the winged man, pointing up to the moon with a miniature paw. He was the only wolf with wings she'd ever met. Was that because all the other ones had flown away? If so, she was glad he hadn't flown away too. She liked her uncle Mortis. He was always so kind and gentle.

"Satira Fatalis"

Uncle Mortis would he ever get used to hearing that? It sent a shiver of emotion through him every time. He cautiously raised a wing, and gently poked her side with the very tip of it. Careful not to put very much push behind it at all. He still could not get over how tiny Satira was.

“The lights?” he asked, confused, before understanding a moment later. “Oh… the stars” he realised. He looked upwards himself, but the lingering day still overpowered the sky. When he glanced towards her again, he squeaked! Realising that she was pushing past his invisible boundaries. He held himself very, very still as she stopped beside his paw. She was so small, she could only really touch his ankle when he leaned against her.

His breath was quick, though he kept it quiet. Fear and excitement equal parts of his heart as he held so still, as the tiny, beautiful creature leaned against him. “I can’t fly, Tira, I just jump rather well from tree tops.” or maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud just yet. He glanced over at her, hoping she wasn’t about to request any dangerous activity.


"Mortis Fatalis"

Stars! That was what the lights were called! She vaguely remembered her mother saying that before, but the name hadn't stuck, not until she could see them and put a picture to the name. Oh, right, that was where her middle name came from! Now it all made sense. Her eyes scoured the sky while it darkened with every second, but still the stars weren't out yet. How long was she expected to wait?! Crickets were already singing their nighttime songs around the plains now, and hundreds of fireflies had appeared all over the place, but still no stars! Lazy, late stars...

Satira noticed how nervous Mortis looked, tense and uncomfortable. And that squeak he'd made! She frowned a little. Did he not like her or something? Well, then she'd just have to make him like her! Tira got to her feet and clambered over his massive foot until she was sitting nestled between his forepaws, wriggling to get herself comfortable against him. "Oh, well, that's a shame," she murmured with a disappointed sigh when Mortis explained he couldn't actually fly. There went her theory of other flying wolves, or of going to the moon to be closer to the stars. But he did say something else that sounded exciting. "What do you mean jumping from the tops of trees? Can you climb trees?" she asked innocently, fixing him with big, glistening eyes and a slight curious tilt of her tiny head. "How do you get up trees, Uncle Mortis?" If he couldn't fly, how did he get up the trees to jump off them in the first place?

"Satira Fatalis"

She was so fearless. It was something he would do anything to keep untainted. He was so afraid of accidentally squishing her and leaving mental scars of clumsy winged boys. She climbed over his paw while he held carefully still. She wiggled herself into place between his paws, and it symbolized how much bigger he was than her.

What did one even do with something as tiny as Satira? Truly. One deep breath from him would flatten her. “Is it?” he asked, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His inability to fly had definitely caused him some trouble in life. He had always tried not to look too hard into what it would be like - to know how close he was, and to be falling short.

“Uhhhh….” He said articulately. His big mouth, it seemed, had gotten him into some trouble. “I have these long claws that come in handy with climbing. I have an old tree house near the edge of the territory” he explained, unable to lie to the wee thing. He wondered if that tree house still stood. How long had it been since he had been there last?

"Mortis Fatalis"

Tira truly couldn't understand why her uncle looked so startled and nervous all of a sudden. It was like she was some sort of dangerous threat to him, despite being able to fit neatly over one of his massive paws. She giggled at the terrified, anxious look on his face and swatted at his paw with her own. "You're silly, Uncle Mort!" she said between little girly laughs. To think this giant of a wolf was so afraid of a pudgy little potato! Of course, Satira was oblivious to just how squishy and vulnerable she really was. In her mind, she was invulnerable, and nothing in the world could hurt her. She was a Fatalis, and she was in the Armada. That was basically like wearing a permanent suit of armor.

Mortis explained how he had long claws that he used to climb trees, and how he had built a treehouse near the edge of their territories. Satira's blue eyes lit up with excitement and recognition all of a sudden. She lifted her tiny paw, reaching towards his face and extending her sharp feline-like claws for him to see. "Claws like this?" she asked, suddenly very excited at the prospect of being able to climb trees. "Can I climb trees too?! I wanna be closer to the stars!" She shot him a huge smile, wondering if he'd be able to teach her how to climb trees someday.

"Satira Fatalis"

He leaned forward, looking at the small girl as she leaned against his paw. So tiny, so breathtakingly, unbelievably tiny. He had never seen a tinier pup in all of his life. She extended her claws, showing her tiny little needles as she flexed her knuckles. He couldn’t help it, he laughed softly.

He raised his own paw, holding it gently next to her, turning it over, and flexing his own claws. Extended, onle long sharp, curved claw was about the size of her face. “I think they need to be a little longer before you can climb trees. But… you can hold on pretty well, right? Perhaps, if you promise to hold on to me really tight, i’ll take you up to our tree house?”


"Mortis Fatalis"

Satira watched while Mortis lifted his own paw, easily the size of her entire body, then flexed his digits to produce his own feline-like claws from his paws. They looked just like hers, but much, much larger. Tira stared in wonder at the claws with quiet coos of intrigue, looking between his natural blades and her own. Would hers get as big as his one day? He mentioned going up to see the tree house and the girl yipped with excited delight at the idea, her small tail wagging so fast it was almost spinning like a propeller. "Oh wow! Will you please, Uncle Mort? Pleeeeeease? I'm really good at holding on to things, I promise!" Sitting up on her rump and reaching towards him with her tiny paws in the air, silently requesting him to pick her up.

"Satira Fatalis"

There was something so wholesome and sweet about the tiny little creature. He had doubts and reservations about bringing her up there. But, looking into her tiny little eyes, he knew she had him wrapped about her little paw. “Alright, but you hold on tight, and do your absolute best not to do anything silly, okay?” he said as he reached out a paw and wiggled it under her stomach so she could cling to it.

If she did so, he would move his paw around and deposit her onto his back as carefully as he could. This was probably a terrible idea, but maybe it could be fun, too? And he hadn’t been back in his tree house for so long. Perhaps the younger generation might be able to get something from it, something fun and wholesome.


"Mortis Fatalis"

A bright smile stretched across Satira's little face when Mortis relented and offered his paw to lift her onto his back. Tira loved riding on the backs of her dire family, and wondered if perhaps one day she would be as big as Grandpa Seer or Uncles Mort and Indigo were. She hopped into his paw with a giggle and let him scoop her up onto his back. She nestled herself into his scruff, taking a hold with careful claws to make sure she was secure. She'd ridden in Grandpa Seer's fur just like this, so she knew she'd be okay as long as she held on. "Okay, Uncle Mort! C'mon, let's goooo!" She tapped impatient paws against the back of his neck like she were trying to crack the reins of a horse and get him moving. Maybe from the treehouse, she'd be able to see the stars even better! She didn't want to miss out on what her mother loved so much.

"Satira Fatalis"

She hopped onto his paw, and he was able to deposit her onto his back with no issues. He would never get over how small she was. He could barely even feel her there, nestled above his shoulders. He bent the tip of one wing inwards, and bopped her lightly on the nose with a feather, before raising them slightly to offer her extra support around her.

That done, he was ready to go. He started off at a light trott, cautiously looking back every now and then to ensure his little passenger was doing alright. It wasn’t long before they came to his old tree house, and he looked up at the impressive sized tree with a grin. The long trunk started off on Armada territory, but as it rose, it dipped down over onto rogue territory. His little rebellion as a child. He looked back one more time. [b] “You ready?” [b] he asked Satira.

"Mortis Fatalis"

Satira giggled when Mortis lifted her like she weighed absolutely nothing, planting her securely between his shoulders and in the scruff of his fur. The tiny girl grabbed onto his scruff as she was so used to doing with all the adults that carried her around—but no other adult was like Mortis. If riding Grandpa Seer had been like riding a noble steed, then Mortis was a fancy royal chariot. He brought one of those amazing giant wings up to boop the end of her snoot, earning a bright bout of laughter from the little pup. Off they went, trotting across the plains of the Armada in the fading twilight. Tira loved the sight of the world from up high, gazing around at all the land her family owned. It made her feel special, powerful, important. Maybe one day she'd held rule all of this, like how her mother helped her grandfather. Reaper Satira did have a nice ring to it...

It didn't take long for the two wolves to arrive at a large, old tree right at the edge of their territory, and peering up through the branches, Tira could spy a structure nestled in its canopy. Mortis asked if she was ready, and Satira gave a happy yap in response. "I'm ready! Let's go!" she exclaimed, tapping her paws impatiently against the back of the dire wolf's neck.

"Satira Fatalis"

“Aye aye!” he said, and leaned back, propping his front paws against the tree. He gave one last glance back at Satira. His wings were lightly fanned out either side for balance, and she was nestled against the nock behind his head and between the raised bumps where his wings began.

Moving before he could chicken out, he turned his head forward again and hopped up onto the first branch. His wings snapping with the light wind of his jump. His claws dug into the branch and helped to haul him over, and hold him steady on the length of it. The Dire wolf could only take the thickest branches. His journey up as an adult was different to that of child Mortis.

"Mortis Fatalis"