A groan slipped from onyx lips as she searched for Cortana when Zandora woke, the filly so intent on never listening to her mother. She had failed at that, her attempts to be a mother had fallen through her hooves like everything else had. After all, the little creature did not need her mother, and the pain that such realizations had brought Zandora was absolutely heartbreaking. To peer upon your creation, your very own image, in each passing day and to see the coldness of nothing in her(your) eyes, and to know that all the devotion you had for her, all the care, all the love, meant nothing? Well it was shattering. Everything that Cortana was supposed to be for her, all the love Zandora was supposed to(and does) have for her had been cast aside; for blood had become more important then love. It seemed like an awful metaphor, replace blood with any sin and the truth still remained so grippingly, devastatingly, true. It was a miserable life she lived, and one that increasingly came unwanted.

She wouldn't give it away, not just yet. Zandora wasn't done, her impact had yet to be made, her desires yet to be lived out, maybe they never will be, but she will not give up. Zandora needed to be reminded of her capablites, of her beauty, of her power that once laced with her alluring steps. She was still beautiful, but once she was pretty in a fiery, rebellious way, now it was in a haunting sort of sense. The vixen looked like some sort of dark angel, one the evoked a pity within you but an awe too, the glorious sadness in her eyes an unknown allurement. She looked for her child, but was not surprised when her calls had fallen short. It had been days since she had seen Cortana, and she wondered if she ever would again.

With a broken sigh, Zandora offered the leopard a soft smile as they let the day take them where it would. She traveled to the caves of the Basin, perhaps seeking comfort in the haurspex, but that idea was quickly ignored, no she couldn't. Her steps crunched in the snow, the purple cloak that warmed her flying with the bitter wind, the fingers of air playing with her hair as she wandered. As she exited the cover of the great pines, a man caught her sight. He looked thin, hairy, and well manly. Zandora wasn't in the best of moods, but figuring he too had seen the black rabbit in the white snow, along with Evara's urges for her to socialize, she neared his cave.
"Cold day isn't it?"






"Talk."