even if the morrow is barren of promise

This place, it was like the looking stones of the gods. Some were smaller then others but each one held some meaning or some path. She sniffed each one of its past inhabitants. So many seemed to stretch and curl and rub against the warm stones. She wondered what the gods had thought when they created such a place. It was as if they littered the ground with forgotten dreams and thrown away memories. She wondered if she listened hard enough if she could head the stories of the dead and living alike? She pushed her soft velvet face against the warmth of one and waited. She had heard nothing. She frowned with disappointment, where were the flowers that spoke of days long gone and lovers tucked up warmly in her arms? They had mocked his name to her. Calling it in the night and reminding her of what she lost. Yet these stones would not talk.

She pulled away from the inviting warmth. Her gaze roved across the open field. Her violet eyes found the mound of honey colored flesh. He was lost to his wandering mind. His lids had sealed the door to his dream world. She wondered what he dreamt of perched on a stone boulder like a raven in its nest. She couldn?t help the slip of a smile that curled her lips as she called out to him. ?Do your claws retract and crave milk?? she called to the slumbering wolf. she wondered if he?d purr if she touched him. ?I do believe you have the balls of a wolf between your thighs, Not those of a cat unless I am mistaken.? She retorted once more as the slumber slipped away from him.

The warmth had been distracting for her ever-growing frame. Her coat was still full for the cold but as the world grew warmer she lost a little each day. She had tugged and groomed and pulled at her wiry appearance but still a tuff or too eluded her. The warmth of this place was a serious contrast to the north where she had been wandering on and off again. Seeking those that belonged to know one and placing theories in their minds. She had a plan for her cracked world. For those that lost their minds to build a new world and call it home. How many mad were left to die? How much insanity was slain or forgotten? She would never allow them all to perish so long as she ruled the kingdom she had laid her claim on. They would belong to her and her to them.