in the bleek midwinter

Recovering from her various spars Banshee decided to take a few days to focus on the pack lands. Paws hit the earth as the tall fae walked along the borders. Her eyes scanned the region as she consumed the various sights and smells. Her pace was easy as her mouth opened to taste the air. An autumn breeze carried the taste of prey and pack Wolves towards the Fatalis. The scent of prey caused her belly to twinge with mild hunger but she figured a meal could wait until after the patrol. There was no use of getting side tracked and missing any sort of vital signs of danger up ahead. Thus, she continued on without thinking much more on the matter.

Her tail flicked gently as she thought of the competition. Everyone competing for the Reaper rank seemed to be kicking their duties into high gear. Banshee had always done her duties well and routinely. But, she could admit she was a bit more enthusiastic with a high rank waved over her head. Something just out of reach that she could snap at. Banshee couldn't help but to grin at the prospect of obtaining her own rank rather then it being gifted to her for no reason. Working for something felt much more rewarding in the end.