The femme steps across the littered ruins, stopping on occasion only to sniff the air to ensure her safety. She isn't sure what kind of creatures are responsible for creating these ruins, and she doesn't intend on finding out if they still inhabit these parts.
Her breath is warm in the cool early morning air, billowing from her dark nostrils as she scans the stone world before her. There is a tangle of scents in the stilness, all wolfish, but they are stale which tells Leera those wolves passed through days ago. Her ears fall against her head in distaste... why was it so difficult to find the packs here? The devout followers?
It's true to say that she's dearly missed climbing the ladders of power, but without any wolves to interact with she isn't sure if she'll ever get that chance again. Leera climbs onto a rock ledge and curls into a tight sitting position, her tail draped over her paws as she loses herself in her thoughts.
@Circe
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
