Sacred to My Soul

Crouched next to the waters of the lake, Lheaf waited silently. Here she bathed in the fragrance of growing things, decaying things, pungent processes of life and death beneath the notice of most. Shadows started to form more distinctly as time passed. Finally there was the scent of power, a pulse of energy that trembled across her body. The baying howl of a fearsome beast wailed one last time across the ancient valley as the light in the sky peeked again around a mountain's steep cliffs before it dipped out of sight. And shadows disintegrated as the darkness gave way to dawn. Another festival over, time to return to the new land across the world itself where the energies in the water tasted different, where the land felt the same and yet, not.

That sense of difference grabbed her attention and jerked it away from the meditation of the night and the Moon and the Life around her. A quick shake of her head, then a stretch that flexed her spine and the muscles along scarred flanks, sharp nails emerged and dug into the moist earth before one last drink of the clear water. I drink the Moon itself whispered across almost feral thoughts.

Lheaf turned and bounded through the brush to the road, before she retook an eleven shape and approached the Gryphon Handler for the long flight across the world itself. Feathers gleamed in the sunlight as the powerful body flexed in flight.