Cheri Cheri Lady

The Weeping Woods lay before Enyo like a shadowy, serene domain, a stark contrast to her usual battlegrounds of power and strife. The delicate willow trees, with their graceful tendrils dipping into the waters of the hot springs, created an ethereal scene of tranquility that seemed almost foreign to her domineering presence. Enyo’s imposing figure, with its rugged and muscular build, stood out against the swaying branches of the willows. Her thick mane, though rugged, framed her powerful neck and broad shoulders, emphasizing the stark contrast between her fierce appearance and the grove’s soft ambiance.

She stepped with deliberate force, her thick limbs parting the undergrowth with a practiced ease that spoke of her familiarity with navigating less hospitable terrains. The natural current, stirred by the hot springs, caressed the roots and made the water dance around the bases of the willows. Enyo barely spared it a glance, her icy blue eyes focused ahead. She was surveying the lands, being sure to avoid any that were marked by the stench of a pack. It was easier to avoid them and if she could not then it would be wiser to be on neutral land. Less things to quarrel about. The woman had been sure to keep to the more central east lands. Having Obsidian Beach be the marker that she was straying too far west. Her goal was to familiarize herself with the land in chunks. Piece by piece.

As Enyo moved through the grove, the willow branches parted slightly, but she made no effort to avoid their low-hanging tendrils. They brushed against her fur, damp with the mist of the springs, and she did not flinch. Her gaze, intense and piercing, swept the surroundings with a critical assessment that revealed her utter indifference to the peaceful nature of the woods. The once proud and thick tail now reduced to a maimed bob swung slightly with each step, a reminder of the intense and overwhelming trials her parent made her endure. As well as the cost of failure.

Her silver-blue eye flickered with a subtle sheen as she surveyed the hidden alcoves created by the weeping branches. They were as unfamiliar to her as they were intriguing. This willow grove, with its seclusion and calm, was a world apart from the politics and rigid expectations of her daily life. Even Enyo’s vanity could not ignore the allure of such a setting, even if it was not one she would typically frequent.

As she walked deeper into the grove the air was cool, and the faint sound of water lapping against the willow roots was a quiet reminder of how out of place her presence was among these quiet, elegant trees. Enyo remained steadfast, ignoring the urge to relax. If she sat down to absorb the beauty of every single scenic view she would hardly get anything done.

"SPEECH"