If These Old Bones Could Talk...

The rains have returned to lands of Auster and Fern takes comfort in the familiar pitter-patter it makes on the castle walls. Today the rain is gentle and the gray girl’s chores are done early so, she takes the opportunity to stretch her legs on the nearby ridge. Pale paws pick their way around the pits where ancient bones, stick up like jagged teeth. An air of quiet reverence follows Fern as she goes and she gives respect to the slumbering giants of the land. She crests the top of the ridge and Fern turns to look back toward the castle, admiring the way the sunlight filters through the clouds and seems to make the stone structure glow. A small smile is on her pale lips as she turns her blue eyes to sweep over the vast land, looking to see if there are any other wolves that might be enjoying the day like her.


"Fern Lark"