A muffled scream left her lips as Castalla jolted awake. She reached for one of her daggers, only to find it was not there. She wasn’t in Alanaris anymore. Sweat coated her body, fronds of pale hair stuck to her neck and brow. The images still haunted her vision, that face leering in every shadow of the forest. Bile rose in her throat, the phantom pain still clawing viciously at her insides. Hastily she staggered to the nearest bush, violently emptying the contents of her stomach.

It was a while before she finished retching, the images finally disappearing from her mind’s eye and the events leading up to her unintentional nap in the forest graced her recollection. Waking up in a particularly poor mood that morning, the Wolf had found herself wandering the forest surrounding the vitreus lake. With no one to spar against and no targets to pursue, there remained little more to do than practice her magic. And, for the first time since arriving in Novus, Castalla had successfully shifted into a wolf form. Only it had been so taxing that upon returning to her equine form she’d promptly passed out. In the middle of the forest. On her own. Not that she would want to do it surrounded by anyone of course.

“I need a drink.” She growled to the silence around her. This was perhaps one of the few times in her life where such a thing was appropriate.

----

The shadow were drawing in as night approached and the homely tavern was packed with uproarious guests. No one noticed the mare as she slipped through the doors, head lowered slightly, a grim glower upon her otherwise captivating features. At the bar she asks for a bottle whiskey and heads for the darkest corner of the inn, where the shadows might obscure her from view. Anonymity was a blessing in Novus. It was very difficult for a Princess to find such an escape in the towns around Nightfall Keep- not when all the patrons knew their future queen by scent.

But tonight was a different matter. Not that she was drunk. The Wolf had a very high tolerance for alcohol thanks to certain, contentious, training. In fact she was very far from drunk. Too far from drunk. Right now she wanted nothing more than to douse the images in her mind with something, anything, to make them go away. Since she couldn’t pour alcohol directly on her brain, this was the next best thing. But it was a bad idea to allow herself such weakness in public- it would be tempting fate, practically begging someone from Alanaris to find her. That and she’d rather not face being judged. A princess should always act carefully, even around those who do not know her- her father had always said.

Castalla was utterly consumed by her own thoughts, watching the amber liquid twirl in the bottle as a single tendril of her telekinesis stirred it absentmindedly. Until a pale form emerged from the bustling crowds, quiet at odds from the rambunctious merry-makers and loud-mouthed patrons. He seemed not to notice the Wolf at first- his mistake. Not that he was in any danger from her. But she watched him lazily from between thick lashes as he seated himself among the shadows.

“It is fine,” she sighs, her voice uncharacteristically dull as she turns back to the bottle and takes a sip. “I suppose drinking in the corner with a stranger is better than drinking in the corner alone.” Oh how she must look, a whole bottle of whiskey to herself, sulking in the shadows while the rest of the tavern was filled with uproarious celebration.