A blanket of stars glimmered amidst the cloudless midnight, staring down from lidless eyes as the world below busied on. Gently, a breeze drew slender fingers through reaching trees, stroking the golden leaves that yet clung to the clawed branches. It was a beautiful contrast to the weeks Castalla had spent at sea, confined to the space of a tiny ship, enduring the polite though restrained conversation of the sailors, and the stares they tossed her way when they believed she wasn’t looking. The boat had been but a feather in the storms that raked the ocean, tossed between the mouths of gigantic waves and thrown to the teeth of watery wolves. It was only by the skin of their teeth, and perhaps the skill of stallion who commanded the ship, that they had survived.
To call the month spent gazing out at the endless ocean unpleasant would have been vast understatement. Castalla was no stranger to the tides, to the feel of wood beneath her hooves and the scent of salt upon the air, and in other circumstances she might have made the journey beneath the waves themselves, in the form of some great aquatic beast. But with no destination in mind and no desire to spend ceaseless days in any form but her natural one, she had boarded a ship set to moor on distant shores. Such familiarity with the sea-travel, however, had not stopped her stomach from lurching as the boat had crashed against the hardened fist of storm-driven waves and the slight nausea that had roiled in her gut those first few nights spent huddled below, listening to the howling of the wind and the smash of adamant water against resilient wood. Most of the time, the crew left her alone- she had paid well enough to silence their questions. However money could never quash the stares and the glances, the way they whispered amongst themselves whenever she passed by. It was not lust, veiled behind the guise of a searching glance, that filled their oculars, but hesitant curiosity and then silent distaste. They were Alanisian, Anvidian born and bred and distrust was in their blood. Castalla was a shapeshifter, one of legend, and it was upon her stories these sailors likely grew up, hearing tales of the monstrous shifter who assassinated the tyrant king, the silent beast that terrorised Anvidian’s innocent people. It was propaganda and myths, most of it anyway, but the crew had no way of knowing the real White Wolf walked their decks. Instead their suspicion arose from the scars on her form and the unfathomed glint in her crystalline eyes. She was a mystery, an oxymoron cloaked in the fragility of their incorrect judgements, but money overruled sense in Anvidian, at least among mortals.
As at least they entered port, even the crew seemed happy as they gazed in amazement at the still oceans, at the stars reflected in their icy depths. Here the night met the earth, the sea an eerie replica of the sky above. At the prow of the ship Castalla smiled softly, breathing in the rich autumn air as she tipped her face to the moonlit heavens, calm beneath the gaze of her people’s goddess. Her father would be pleased to know Nysa watched over her, even so far from home. And then pain broke the reverie. Stabbing. Burning. Tearing at the very essence of her being. It was as though her wolf were being cleaved from her soul, her immortality and her power drawn from her body. A gasp left her lips, misting in the air around her as the assassin felt her knees give away. Blue eyes glistening with pain and determination, Castalla stood straighter, refusing to pander to the worry that ignited within her chest. The Wolf knew what it was like to lose her powers, but never had it felt so painful. So… devastating. Forcing air into her lungs, Castalla closed her eyes and focused on the silence of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest. There, hidden by the sudden hole in her body, her powerful slumbered, weakened by very much there. Breathing a sigh of relief, she watched the as the boat drew closer, blind to the practiced movements of the crew as they readied the ropes for mooring as she grieved the abrupt fall of her power. Whatever this land was, the rogue had no doubt passing into it was what weakened her abilities. But she was the Wolf, and the Wolf did not break.
The feel of land beneath her hooves was a welcome reprieve, even if the earth wavered and wobbled beneath her legs, as though she were still aboard the boat. Forcing herself into a steady walk, she left the ocean behind and the wooden cage that had been her home for the past month, following the path of the moon as she moved elegantly beneath its watchful gaze.
please don't feel the need to match the length of this, its unlikely my next post were be this long xD
