[ She knows who is ahead; she can feel the power of a shard, the power of something more that draws her attention. She had come to see her home, to the grave of her mother - or the mother she claimed - and now the shardbearers had spread, the power of them alone were striking. She wanted more of it, she craved it, and it made her want to reach out to drag the power to herself, to fight for it and claim it as her own, teeth bared before she pauses.
An eagle. Creatures do not like her, her natural wolf form painting her as an enemy more than anything else, and she relents, frowning before she turns her head and steps forward. The woman, at least, is handsome enough, and not like to attack, and Lauralae lifts her head. ]
no subject
An eagle. Creatures do not like her, her natural wolf form painting her as an enemy more than anything else, and she relents, frowning before she turns her head and steps forward. The woman, at least, is handsome enough, and not like to attack, and Lauralae lifts her head. ]
My lady.