This is Not the End

Faelene moved with arrogance, elegance and grace. Each step she made, each rhythmic beat her paws peppered against the ground was struck with purpose and precision. She was a product of a very noble group of wolves who were proud of their traditions, proud of their heritage but she was also the last. Her people were gone, her family, her caravan all but a forgotten memory lost in time. Did it wound her? Almost every day. Did she let it show? Never. She buried those feelings of loss and loneliness beneath an untouchable aura of majesty and a tongue sharper than any fang... which is why when she came upon the dark hued femme, Faelene did not speak. Mos of the common plebeians were beneath her, unworthy of her time or lingering attention... but something about the slow hesitance the femme used as she scaled the fallen log drew Faelene's keen attention. Her tail flickered.

She waited until the woman moved slowly up and over before her maw dared to part and her vocals tangled through the air. "You are blind." The knowledge hit her sharply and now that the femme was closer, Faelene could see the fogginess that clouded the woman's iris. Faelene's tone was sharp, her accent thick. The svelte creature had called Romania home once and English was most certainly a second language. "How do you live with such a potent weakness." It was presented more like a statement then a question and while the words might be perceived as harsh, they were honest in their brutal curiosity.