"The darkness holds no solace, so very very far from home. Mercy lives not in the holly."

Growing darkness gripped the world as the golden sun continued to slip away beneath the horizon. Only a small amount of light bled through the dense forest, almost completely mono-toned in color from the thick fog that lingered. An eerie place with a gentle breeze causing the tree branches to rub against one another and rustle the forest underbrush. Lurking in the forest shadows a light wandered, a brightly colored canvas against the surrounding gray-tones. Cream fur with area of ivory, and light violet eyes glimmering in the dim light. Her head held high above her shoulders with sloppy confidence radiating from her form. Even in her powerful stride, one could see her arrogance. Ears pressed forward, careless of her surrounding world that shrouded her.

Crimson dripped from her lips from a fresh kill that she had recently devoured. A small bird had fallen to her jaws, but did not nearly fill her ravenous stomach, nor her crave for more. The rest of her coat was in pristine condition, yet she did not care to lick the blood from her narrow muzzle. Smoothly sculpted form was searching the forest for more prey to savor. While she usually preferred to keep her regal form, she could not resist the sweet temptations that delicious blood had to offer her, and she was falling into it. It was as if what she once was could form into quite the thirsty creature. At times she fought it away, and others, she gave into it.

Now, she followed the scents that she picked upon the flowing air, tail swaying behind her and eyes eager for what would await her up ahead.

Kia padded quietly through the forest that day, feeling a bit down. She missed the company of other wolves, and being a loner meant she hardly ever found herself face-to-face with that of her own kind. And this foggy place wasn’t helping her mood any. She found that she was thirsty, so went off in search of a stream or a pond to quench her need. After some time, she did come upon a small stream, so small that she could step over it to the other side quite easily. She took the opportunity to drink, and then carried on her somber way.

Soon enough, she scented blood. What kind of blood she wasn’t sure, but it was definitely blood. And a little while after that, she could smell another wolf. With a hopeful wag of her tail, she picked up her slow ambling pace, wanting to catch up to whoever was nearby. Suddenly she skidded to a halt. Blood? And a wolf? “Mother Goddess,” she gasped, and then kicked her back legs and took off at a dead run. No kin of hers was going to die if she could help it. This she vowed. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know them. A wolf was a wolf. She would do what she could.

Unfortunately, she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. What she smelled was the blood of a bird, and the wolf who had killed it. Why she couldn’t tell it was bird’s blood no one knows. All that matters is that he had misunderstood the situation and now she was determined to help the “poor broken wolf who could be dying at any moment.” And, as this was all she was thinking of, she damn near ran into said wolf, leaning back and skidding in the dirt to avoid ramming right into the cream-colored female.