only the passionate are immortal

Sierra was on a journey of self-searching. Her family had always been a bit free. Raised in the lands around the Hallows, where she constantly was able to explore and learn. Perhaps that was why she had such a desire to explore now. This wasn’t her first trip to the boneyard, but it was her first time giving it more than just a cursory look over. It looked like a place where wars were fought. Bones protruding from the earth, and the scent of blood so rich even time hadn’t brushed it away.

She pushed further into the territory, taking in the scents and sights, when a wolf as silver and burnished as the bones themselves caught her eyes. She glanced with a wrinkle of her nose at the towering wolf. Of course, she wasn’t nearly as tall as most of her family. But still, tall wolves. They always had to be so darn tall. Straightening, so she stood at her tallest. (A very impressive 17”) She trotted forward, until she was within comfortable speaking distance of the other. “Are you here for a spar?” She asked, curiosity in her tones.

"Sierra of the Sea"