Rhaegara had once thought that she would love to travel, but she found that love greatly diminished in her limited capacity to choose her own adventure. She had little doubt that had things not gone down the way they had, she’d be leading right now, or at least still standing strong as heir apparent, honing her skills to one day take over for her parents, and choose a mate to go along with. It was custom, tradition… it hadn’t been ideal for her. When she chose someone, she wanted it to be for love but it was not the way.
Still, even with those burdens off her chest, she felt hollow and incomplete. She was venturing the lands surrounding the forest, gathering a lay of the land as she intended to bunker down in one area in the winter months until the throngs of spring were upon the lands she now wandered. It was difficult. She could admit it was difficult… but Rayvne wolves did what they had to in order to survive. If her parents were to be believed, the Spirits watched down upon them and blessed them… Rhae did not think she could possibly believe in such things anymore, not after how cursed they must have been to deserve the fate they had.
She padded along the creek, snow lightly crunching underneath her as her pelt fought off the occasional strong gust of biting wind. It seemed like a nice place, a quiet place… one where she might be able to reflect. She found herself sitting near the creek edge, looking out over the body of water that had not quite frozen from the cold... she could, admittedly, get used to this.