aw, for Nycteus
The Dynasty had fallen, the Empress and all her followers dispersing like wisteria petals on the sea-salt breeze. Choumi had lost family, lost pack, lost everything once before. She'd clung to the wilting remnants of the Dynasty's power for so long, hoping not to lose anymore - but in the end, she knew when it was time to move on. To cut the heartstrings holding her chained and find a new path, even when she didn't want to.
The butterfly had taken flight, and wandered north - through the swamps she'd once roamed, until the wetlands turned to peat-stink forests and then, loamy and maple-draped landscape. She would miss the seaside. Months of a diet of fish, cracked open crab and clams, and the rare root vegetables or sweet fruits that grew on the island had made the woman's once-thin and brittle coat fill out. Gleaming and silky, washed in typhoon rainstorms and dried in spring sun. Choumi did not worry for her survival even as she left the safety of numbers. She had survived much worse than solitude already. She worried only for her future - the wolf within the woman demanded pack, companionship. The huntress knew better than to deny herself, but she didn't want to take on the risk of losing those she aligned herself with, again.
At least there was fresh beauty to lay eyes on, here. Delicate paws picked their way across leaf-carpeted pathways as she walked, chin lifted as she stared at the shades of red that draped the forest. Like a fraternal twin to the island that lay, dormant and abandoned, to the south. Evening was deepening mahogany shadows at the edges of her vision - she nearly missed the porcupine rifling through the leaves, shadowed by the tree canopy. It was a dark creature, spines bristling and tipped with a brighter cream that caught the fading light like a knife's razor edge. Choumi halted, staring at the creature with her lips pursed in thought. The huntress knew her own skill - would it be enough to defeat the challenge of the quarry before her? Perhaps not. Perhaps she should keep walking. Instead, the butterfly hovered, tempted by the allure of an adrenaline rush, and a meal well fought for.
