Isaveth was a lonely woman full of sorrow. She dwelt in Dawnshire, but she knew nobody. She breathed, but she didn’t truly live. She saw - but she remembered nothing. She was a ghost, a spirit, a ghoul. Isaveth’s days held nothing but emptiness, a barren wasteland of lost hope and love where both had once resided in her heart and soul.
An unfamiliar voice shook Isaveth’s audits with a call. She pulled herself out of slumber, mind slowly working. The summons was issued from a female’s mouth. She could tell that much. She pulled her body out of her den, then loped to the gathering clearing.
Orange eyes peered out of a head encased in fur and bone; blue jay wings complemented white pelt and black brindling. The woman announcing a Dawnshire pack meeting was menacing, and she was regal. The blue jay queen, Isaveth immediately thought of this woman as, and it was of highest accuracy.
This was how she could have looked, might have looked, if she stayed in her homeland and became a queen. She wouldn’t have been Queen of Lusia, or even a regnant, but she would have been something. Here, she was just a lost wolf.

“I look inside myself & see my heart is black.”