The evening weather was fine, but the wolf was not.
Treyah was used to the ethereal roiling storm clouds that shadowed her every step, what she wasn't accustomed to was the endless thunder, the flashes of lightning, the raging fire that burned beneath - endlessly. Usually, it was one or the other, but of late... It seemed she couldn't shake either, and pretending to hold it all together was becoming... exhausting. She wanted to rip, to tear and taste blood on her tongue. She wanted the sticky, oozing warmth of it being spilled to matt her coat, a visible red flag for any that might think to cross her on this night.
She wanted to let go of everything she was, and ever had been.
The sound of a closing door was almost audible, soft golden eyes hardening like set amber. She wouldn't allow herself to be hurt again. What was the use in expectations if others only sought to dash them in front of your very eyes? What was the point of being good, or caring if she was always left feeling so miserable? If nobody else ever did the same for her?
There was no smile on her face as she set out into the woods, the waning moon barely lighting her way through the trees. Not that it mattered. She had other senses she could depend on.