the way that she dances

The change in the seasons was a welcome one or would be, if it ever actually settled in for the Aurora pelted yearling. Usually, winter offered some reprieve from the growths that often plagued her. As it currently stood, she only sporting a few open wounds, their glowing green ooze tracking down from her ears and eyes, down her legs and flanks, marked her out on the darkened battlefield. But they would be back. It was only because she had put herself through the agony of knocking them off that she was currently unencumbered.

Morganna leapt up onto one of the discarded husks of a tank, turning seafoam eyes to the dancing lights overhead, almost a mirror of the green cape across her shoulders. North. She'd have to head further north. The silent snarl on her face summed up her feelings at her lot in life. A pair of ravens swooped down to settle alongside her, the tiny owl coming to rest between her ears.