The ruby-scaled, seven-tailed maiden made her way through the lands of Nightingale, bored and in the mood to explore the lands of the pack. She played with the light as she went, giving herself auras and halos and glows, sucking the light from beneath trees and making it overly bright near random items like blades of grass or fluttering leaves, ruby wings tucked closely in. Lenore’s hazel eyes scanned the scenery.
She barely knew any of her packmates, but she knew a lot of the land of Nightingale; she had done quite a bit of exploring. This chunk of forest was unfamiliar to the eyecatching female, though. Which was why she was exploring it, in lieu of a rank in the pack. In lieu of a family to spend time with. She was an adult by now. Queen Hecate had not given Lenore a role yet, so she waited and listened and watched, keeping her silence, keeping her vigil.

“In the night, the stormy night.”