The young wolf was only just learning what it meant to be an Abraxas. To be an offspring of the ruling class of the Empire, and to be a child of Gods. It was a lot for any young mind to take in, so naturally, she absorbed the information and changed it into something useful. Being a Goddess must mean being a force of nature, something that would be in battles, fighting for what was hers, right?
Today, that meant fighting the Grapevines of Doom that wrestled about an old, exhausted aspen, twisting this way and that around its great limb, choking it. There was a holiness to the old creature, that indicated it was losing the battle. A Goddess of the Risen Empire might just decide to step up and do something about that. Which was why she had a large dollop of vines in her mouth, steady growls lisping through her full cheeks as she pulled and tucked, making a ruckus as she pulled off one piece of vine only to realise so many more where wound about the tree. She rose up on her back feet, swiping her claws down the vines with a battle cry.
She wasn’t far from the den, and therefore wasn’t breaking any rules that would disappoint her parents - that was something that she had clicked onto quite quickly, with the way her mother spoke of being an Abraxas with pride, and their busy father spoke of leadership. She didn’t ever want to disappoint them, for an expression that indicated she was letting them down to ever cross their faces. She had decided she would fight for what was hers, just like she would fight for this tree, she would fight for her parents pride, as well.
![[Image: mZorPt0.png?1]](https://i.imgur.com/mZorPt0.png?1)