that thieving bastard

She had been walking for what felt like forever. It had been over a season since she last saw the male who stole from her, a thief who took more than just a thing  - he took a piece of her history, her late mother's gifted bracers, her most prized possession. Her nostrils flared as she picked up the faintest of scents, a muddled trail that she hoped - and had hoped for weeks now - would lead her to him.

Her strides were purposeful, though the longer she walked, the shorter they became. The landscape stretched out before her, an endless sea of green and gold. Just another vast, open space that seemed to mock her prolonged adventure. Vanta's emotions were beginning to get the better of her: the burning anger at the thought of the bracers in the paws of another, the piercing stab of loss, and an underlying current of fear. What if she never recovered them? What if this was all for nothing?

As the sun finally set, Vanta conceded to her exhaustion. With a heavy heart and a tired body, she laid down, resting her head upon her paws. There, under the vast sky, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She was far from the feared and respected warriors of her family, yet here she was, driven by a knight's valor and on a seemingly impossible quest. How would she ever find him?