The Brewing Storm

The femme was not in the most uplifted moods yet, but she was certain that, with time, she’d find her heart once more. An ear twitched as the massive creature patrolled the borders of Abaven, her fiery gaze pulling this way and that. Since Renhett had left the femme hadn’t tried reaching out to anyone else in the pack just yet. But she was certain that she would in time. All it was going to take was finding the right individual, or individuals… She had to find her way out of this slump, or so help her, she was going to lose it.

A sound nearby had caught the femme’s attention. It was soft, and at first the femme had almost dismissed it as the wind. But then Pyrr spotted him. A young child, one of Storm’s children… and though he wasn’t quite as big as she was he was still quite an impressive size for one so young. His coloration was handsome as well, Pyrrhus noted, as she closed the distance between the two of them. Her ears perked forward, her normally fierce gaze softening. She knew to children she could look like a monster what with her massive form, scars, and the collar about her neck…

But Pyrr had a gentle side too.

She took notice of the butterfly a moment later and let out a soft laugh. “Well now…” The femme rumbled. “Seems a butterfly has chosen you to be it’s friend. Count yourself lucky, young one.”