Post by daemonologie on May 24, 2011 14:07:25 GMT -6
Bloody hell, Ravenwing thinks to herself. I am tired, I am hungry, and worst of all, I am wet. She has been traveling for days, weeks, months. or so it would seem. Nearly a week ago she fled her home-land, a small river valley in the south. Her adopted family had been killed by a terrible disease, as was the rest of the clan and the prey it hunted. Ravenwing is weak, for she hasn't stopped to hunt. She wanted to keep moving, to leave that disease as far behind her as possible. The female stops under the shade of a small pine and assesses her wounds. Her eye is swollen from a cut, numerous gashes dot her body, and she limps on her feet. A slight breeze picks up, and scents fill her nose. A field mouse is nearby, a family of rabbits came this way earlier. And then she smells something else, a scent that both excites and terrifies her. Ravenwing has found a clan territory.