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Star · 10-19-2024, 07:32 PM

Starchild moved steadily through the brush of her new home, her steps sure and practiced, practically silent as she padded along. The heat of Boreas in its summer months clung to her fur as though she were wearing a thick, winter cloak. Her black and white coat, striking against the pale, sunbleached grasslands, didn't help any. It was as if the sun had a vendetta as it beat down upon the land and everything that lived within it. Star's lope was fluid, easy, not wasting more energy than she had to, as she traversed the desolate Dancefloor. Her pink tongue protruded as she fought to regulate her body temperature with some heavy panting. It had been hot here all summer she'd been told and, with these being peak months, the temperature was near sweltering.

The lands south of the Dancefloor got the worst of it. Boreas was a land of extremes this summer.

The north's cool, crisp air was a distant memory as Star continued south to watch the weather shift and change. She had to understand the trends; it was part of her position, her duty, her promise to Erebos. As much as hunting and fighting were crucial for survival, so was the prediction of the changes in seasons. After all, survival wasn't all about fangs and claws and she could very well attest to that. It sent a dagger of cold ice into Star's heart to even think about touching another whether it be battle or not. Yet here she was; alive, thriving.

For the most part, the winds were still and carried no relief from the heat. From time to time, a faint breeze brushed against her face, but even that was a tease, only a whisper of hot wind before it disappeared. The earth was dry under her paws, cracked and crumbling, the cavernous mouths of the deepest cracks calling out for water. The air was thick with the smell of dust and withered, sun roasted greenery.

Star paused near a raise in the land, her cyan gaze sweeping the horizon. Nothing moved except for a few stringy clouds high in the sky, barely visible through the thick, rippling haze of heat that rose from the ground. It stretched on and on, desolate and harsh under the oppressive sun. This was Boreas in summer. Each season came with its own subtle differences. As she watched the sky, she began to think ahead, trying to predict what next season might bring. Summer would inevitably fade into fall, but what kind of fall was it going to be? The signs were already out there if she could read them properly. The pattern of temperature, the winds, the dryness of earth, it all worked together to tell her what was to come.

The question then was, would it be an early, colder autumn, or would the warmth of the summer hold on tight, leaving the land warmer longer and the cooler days of autumn shorter? Would they be thrust straight from Summer to winter?

She narrowed her eyes, her mind going back to summers. It hadn't been this insufferable until the later season in her homeland and the rains had come early. In Boreas, they were late. The land was chained up in a harsh drought. It would make things hard for everyone when the colder months rolled in. Crops would fail. The water supplies would dwindle, prey would become scarce, and the pack would have to travel further for both.

Star cocked her head, pale ears shifting back and forth as she listened to the sounds around her. It was too quiet. The animals that would normally be running amok in the summer had gone nrth or were in deep shade. Nothing moved but the light rattling of dry grass. She could feel the tension in the air, almost as if the land itself was waiting for something to break.

That fall would bring with it a cooler wind, of course, but just how soon would those winds come? And when they finally did, would they be strong enough to bring with them the cooler temperatures of the north? She had no way of knowing for certain, but she must begin to plan. The world didn't forgive those who failed to plan. It was better to plan accordingly.

Summers up in the far north weren't nearly so bad. The air was always cooler there, even in the height of the season. You could actually breathe during the summer. Right now, it was difficult and her lungs felt as though they were filled with dry dirt. Star shook her striped coat, the dust and debris from her travel falling away. Her mind swirled with questions about the future. Of course, she would have to speak to the others as well, gather their observations and thoughts. It would help as she formed her own prediction. Older wolves would bring a different level of knowledge, having lived through more seasons than Star had seen.

Star's thoughts settled on the immediate future. The ground was too dry. It would take little more than a spark for a wildfire to get started, and if that happened, it would eat up every bit of dry land that it could bite. It was a worrisome thought. Did Insomnia have a safe place to retreat to if fire did eat up the territory? It was something that Star would think about. Perhaps she could develop a plan for just such an occurrence.

Coming back to the Dancefloor, the sun was finally working its way beyond the horizon. Night offered a modicumm of comfort as far as temperature went and the Dunamis fae looked forward to it. As she rejoined the members of the pack, the monochromatic fae shared her findings and her thoughts on the matter. She listened as the others gave their opinions and predictions, filing them away. Only time would allow them to discover who was right. If she was diligent and continued reading the signs, then she would be the victor.

WC- 1008

"Starchild"

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