poetry in life [Heather]

The east was familiar, if a bit too hot for her liking. The phantom had been born here, and she wondered if it had changed since. A dim memory of this place being devoted to a dead forest, floor covered in ashes. Now, there was a fresh and gorgeous forest rising from the grave. A phoenix grove. Dark paws slid across the ground, skimming the low grasses with her toes. Each branch was covered in new blooms, nothing more than buds at this point. Low hung tiara swept to and fro as her moonlit optics observed the surroundings.

Long tail swept gracefully across her dark heels as she wandered between the saplings. Young birds were indignantly chirping for their parents to bring them food. Age had made her tree climbing endeavours few and far between nowadays. She wondered if, should she teach a younger wolf how, such a wolf would retrieve the succulent young chicks for her. How wonderful that would be. She missed snacking on unsuspecting hatchlings.