that thieving bastard

The setting sun cast long shadows across the prairie, painting both wolves in hues of amber and gold. Vanta observed the slight tension in Lia's posture, the way her chest seemed to rise and fall just a bit faster. "It's quite alright, Lia." The princess replied, her tone gentle, meant to reassure. "This prairie belongs to no one. We're all just passersby here."  Vanta was familiar with the look of someone who carried burdens and doubts, who viewed the world with a wary eye. That sort of suspicion was not uncommon in the Armada.

Vanta's crystalline features had caught the last light of the day, reflecting it back with an otherworldly intensity. She lifted a paw to her brow, shielding her eyes from the light - it was the least she could do. Fortunately, the way her crystal-touched fur was layered trapped the glare within, and her fluorite sabers were smooth and without deep facets to refract. Giving Lia an apologetic tilt of her head, she offered a wry smile. "Sorry about that." She chuckled lightly. "The light sure does love to play."

She moved a step closer, bathing herself in Lia's shadow. "You're welcome to share the prairie with me for the night. It's safer with another nearby." She did not need to state aloud what evils lurked in the shadows; the fresh scar upon Lia's face and the uncertain way in which she carried herself spoke volumes to the woman's experience with the dangers in the dark.

"Vanta"