Played Fire on the Mountain

The seas wine red; This is the death of beauty

this is the time and this is the place to be alive

. . .


Champion listened with perked ears to the stranger's answer. So they weren't so much a pack as much as a band of rogues that migrated here and there. Sounded rather familiar. Old Amenti was about in the same condition - only, due to Newt's long periods of vanishing - they were not so collected nor so stationary. Briefly Champion wondered about these strangers and what their story might be. But those were questions she could always ask later when more time had been spent in the little black one's company. She did not want to appear nosy.

At Midnight's exclaimation that she knew the perfect spot, Champion let a grin wrinkle her muzzle. However, the black one made no attempt to move just yet. Champion understood at once. It was fighter's instincts - a language she could speak quite well. However it wasn't as though she could make the first move of faith and step in the lead, for she had no idea where they were going. Instead Champion simple came a little close, showing that she was ready to walk side by side whereever the rogue fae might lead. "Excellent!" the bear-woman said, "Whenever you're ready!"

. . .