"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
09-26-2015, 03:21 PM (This post was last modified: 09-26-2015, 03:28 PM by Macaria.)
macaria
palest shadow; darkest light
The night-sky is beginning to fade away, gently sweeping the dark blues with a slick brush of rosy pinks and silky purples. Her golden-amber eyes watch the curve of the sun crest the distant hillocks just before they reach the thick woodland edge. Her father's body glides into the shadows and she next, her eyes taking time to adjust to the blotted out light. The fog swirls at the edges of the well-worn path, travelers before them had already disturbed it's peaceful blanket across the mossy forest floor. His big burly body pads ahead of her, familiar with their surroundings – Mac has been practically lost since birth, barely grasping a rough idea of a map in her head. She does know she is in fact headed toward home, her father's body language and her general lack of stupidity tells her this simple, vague fact. The sounds of the waves have faded away now and all that fills her small cupped ears is the gentle thumps of her father's carefully placed footfall and the ravens beginning to wake and call out their daybreak celebrations.
The traveling kin are now beginning to see more forest and the air has lost it's salty crisp. She quickens her pace to a trot, only to catch up to the warmth of Archibald's rib cage and then match his walking pace just behind his shoulder. Her skin prickles and her nostrils tighten, widening to suck in more smells. Her bright eyes doing the same, hungry for her surroundings and swelling until the white brims of their outer-lining show. She says nothing, but she's sure that her father has not missed the transpirings of his yearling daughter nearly jumping from her dappled skin with wonderment. As they walk she attempts to take in everything from the smells, the soil, the trees, the budding foliage to the cold streams they keep having to cross. She memorizes landmarks best of all – old trees, big boulder, faces carved in the sentinel trunks or ruins of some sort. The whole way she does this.
Her winter fur has gone, after much rubbing and meticulous maintenance (the others teased that she preens like a common swan), has left behind a sleek, leopard dappled silvery coat. It is thick and short, still sleek like the thin-skinned children of lighter builds. It is almost metallic, sparkling like sterling around the chiseled patches of dapple. Her tail is still all except for it's tasseled end, quirking and spinning constantly, hanging just above the dirt and roots. The day's temperature is proving fair, no bite to the air but still not quite warm. The clouds roll over them, few and far between, big and fluffy like wads from a cotton plant. The breeze is sweet and gentle, carrying with it the smells of fresh water and new vegetation. They walk all day under a cloak of sunlight, climbing and descending and trotting across flat ground and then hills again.
She walks close to him but is careful not to stumble into him or get her cloven feet in the way of his walking. She can hear the churning waters ahead and now it's almost approaching evening. They're path has yet to end though, or even approach an end. Her legs are starting to ache, the hoof she injured months ago has started to throb as well. She ignores it but her body cannot quite hide the subtle limp. She remains quiet though, naturally. The next few miles feel like forever, but alas the mists can be seen boiling from the rushing water spilling onto the rocks and into it's crystalline pool. She sucks in a deep sigh, watching the distance for any change, for a body or a light to be seen ahead. The sun is setting now and the sky blazes an orange like flame, the clouds have adopted sharp edges and started to gather in more and more. The branches and fragile newborn growth catches the beams of warm light reaching out across the horizon. For a moment everything is gleaming gold.
Okay so I had fled like a little kid from the fight with that Wolf God thing. I had to look out for Sarabi. She was all I have left. Momma is dead, Daddy is no where to be found. We both are growing up alone, in a herd where I really don't think anyone notices me. I'm just, a lost orphan. A nobody. To young to do anything helpful to the herd, to old to be adopted and taken in by anyone. My half green and half blue eyes turn to look at Sarabi as she whines. Well it's true. Who would want to look after a yearling that doesn't belong to them? She tilted her head but remained silent.
I have to admit, we are walking the edge of the herd because I am thinking of leaving. Would anyone even notice we're gone? Probably not. That's when I see them. The way they walk, clearly father and daughter. I stop, but Sarabi does not. No! Don't! I cry through our bond. But instead she bounds happily foward to greet the pair. So much for going unnoticed.... I sigh heavily and walk forward, the setting sun caressing my own sleek bay coat. BirdSong has been good to me. I was no longer an awkward baby, but a steadily growing lady. I am still the wild and reckless child, but protective too as I have Sarabi to look out for. Speaking of my hellhound, she stops just short of the pair and barks happily. I move to stand with her and speak softly as I realize just who the stallion before me is... He's one of the new Czars.... Shit... Sorry... She's a bit... Excited to see others... I lower my head, waiting for either one to speak.
I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.
Their trek was so long, but it needed to be done. Macaria had spent too long in the desert, separated from her family. Well--not entirely. Her brothers were with her, but when Archibald went to reclaim his fallen daughter, neither of his hellion sons were to be seen. The thought lay bitter on the Czar's tongue. Those boys were in the Throat to watch and to protect her and they had not been there. Bile rose in Archibald's throat, the anger burning his tongue like acid. He had kept it low and unreadable in the presence of his daughter. The father wanted to give no reason for this precious girl to think lowly of the careful guardians she had been given as brothers. Perhaps they had not been there because they had been given rank and duty. The thought amused Archibald. His sons were raised as outcasts, vagabonds living off the land. Were they fit for rank? Their mother never truly was. Even so loyal to the Grey and the Foothills, her heart always yearned for the wildness she had been born and raised into.
"Macaria, welcome to your home. Here, you are a Princess." Archibald finally spoke, standing tall next to his delicate daughter. The Dauntless moved his muzzle down to brush against her grey back. Loretta moved to stand before them, tail wagging as it curled above her back. Like then the boys were colts, she was itching to play chase with the grey filly. However, as she looked upon the daughter with a smile, her head suddenly snapped around and she caught sight of the oncoming canine. Snarling viciously, Loretta turned and leapt toward the creature. Archibald lifted his head and moved a tree-trunk leg before Macaria. Golden eyes narrowed toward the treeline, but softened when a muddied body entered the scene. "Loretta!" Archibald scolded before the malamute could grab the hellhound in her deadly jaws.
"Aye, you are alright, child." Archibald nodded. A small smirk lit his features, "Meet my daughter, Macaria." He shifted, removing himself as the grey's shield. "I am sure she would enjoy someone her own age showing her around." He looked upon his princess with pride swelling brightly in his golden eyes.
10-14-2015, 09:10 AM (This post was last modified: 10-14-2015, 09:11 AM by Macaria.)
macaria
palest shadow; darkest light
When he finally stops she leans into him, as natural and warm as a cozy fur blanket, her amber eyes sliding shut with relief. The boom of her Father's voice grabs her attention seconds later and she softly launches from leaning her small amount of weight on his hip to step in front of him a few feet. “It's beautiful, Daddy.” She doesn't ever remember being here, but then again she hardly remembers much...flashes of memory dance through her dreams or the wanderings of her mind when her surroundings are still. The Mother she often speaks to, the ghost she hopes to feel, isn't even amongst her memories...though she can see her in her brothers, she can even see her when her Father's golden eyes settle lovingly on her steely dappled frame, or on the tenderness of her face.
Suddenly a hound bursts from beyond where Macaria was idly searching for her brothers – she gasps and leaps back behind her Father's frame, watching Loretta bound with blood-lust for the charging beast. Her skin crackles and sparks, her magic involuntarily lighting up the surface of her pale coat. It fades as quickly as it begins and she is left breathing fast and hard, her leonine tail flicking and twisting anxiously. The yearling peers awkwardly from behind as Archibald settles the atmosphere, the hellhound is bonded to a child with bright two-tone eyes. Macaria's mouse-gray lips curl delightedly, smiling at the other filly. Macaria is larger, knobbier, much more like a bag of rocks put into a silky gray sack. She will grow into her large joints, her big feet and her thick limbs, but for now she looks like a great dane puppy. Though she doesn't seem it, she is extremely graceful despite her disproportions, placing each step tentatively, calculating each move.
She is dwarfed beside the sturdy, battle-built frame of the Dauntless. In his shade she feels untouchable, sheltered beneath his strength. Princess, she lets the title bounce around in her head, Where are you Mother? She looks up toward the sky, plumes of cotton clouds drifting away to show the bright blue. Nevermind. I know where you are. You are gone. Her mind grimaces but her face remains tilted to the skies blankly before coming back down to search the ground for answers. Better question, where are my brothers? She looked to her father, wordlessly asking where they might be, scrunching her face at him. She knows he will know exactly what she means. She looks back to the other filly, smiling some more when Archibald introduces her, “Hello!” Her voice is soft yet sharp, untrained and high pitched. She stands ready for play or exploration, but her peripherals keep watch for Abraham and Reginald.
As Loretta sprung forward, Sarabi put on the brakes. She slid to a stop, barking at Loretta as if to say 'I just wanted to be friends, gosh.' I move to her side, slightly in front of her to try and stop the other dog from harming her if the Czar couldn't. She clearly belonged to him, as he had shouted her name. I could not be more embarrassed than I was right now. "Aye, you are alright, child." I wanted to balk and tell him I was not a child. But I am not an adult either. I'm, a teenager? What the hell am I anyway? "Meet my daughter, Macaria." His daughter? Well that's just great. She looks around my age... But we could never be friends... She's a princess, and I am nothing. "I am sure she would enjoy someone her own age showing her around." Or apparently I am now her tour guide. Great, just great. A part of me wants to say no. To yell at them to go back where they came from...
But the other part, told me to just give in. It's been months since they took over. I barely knew anyone now anyway. Czar Midas was dead, Daddy was gone.... and Momma had been murdered. Who knew what had happened to the rest of those I knew... I sighed and looked to the ground silently, the war in my mind as to if I wanted to be friends with a princess raging. Sarabi however looked from Loretta, to the Czar, then to his daughter, and finally to me. When she looked at me, she whined softly. Don't. I spoke in her mind. She looked then to the Czar and then back to me again. I had no idea what she had in mind for one. She wouldn't say and I could only feel her emotions. The thought had passed so fast that I had missed it. What was she trying to tell him?
"speech here"
Sarabi Talks
ooc - So so sorry for the wait!
short quote
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image by semper
Some say you're trouble, boy Just because you like to destroy All the things that bring the idiots joyWell, what's wrong with a little destruction?
He stands there, gazing into an emerald-green jewel of a land shrouded in mists, and wonders to himself if his mother ever intended for this place to be his home. He stands there, remembering that time she came here, heavier in her eyes than usual, telling him of the bones that resided in this place—the bones of another sister, this one too weak for even birth, the most basic of things. He doubts those bones remain here now, as the terrain has been pummeled and broken and reshaped anew since he last laid eyes upon it. It does not matter to him, much. He was never attached to these prosperous lands.
He watches—aloof. Away from his sister and the Father that guides her, he stands within the shadows of a fringe much too far away to hear her inquiries to his whereabouts. He feels the sand clotted within the crevices of his mane, his joints; the harshness of the sun might be missing, but still the desert calls him, and he cannot linger for long. The noose of a herd’s wants and needs tightens about his neck. It inches smaller and smaller, clenching his jugular, and dimly he has begun to wonder how long his patience will withstand this smothering of his freedom. The thought is cast easily aside for the time being.
High above, Ka’Mate soars, eager and bored; down below, Ka’Ora perches heavily on the wither of her master, for the claw scars there are familiar, and her talons are well suited to such callouses. He can feel what she feels as her dark, liquid eyes watch the dappled back of the younger sister from far away; the harpy beats her wings, anxious as she watches the demon dog charge for Macaria.
Danger? comes the inquiry at her master’s inaction. Danger, danger?
Watch, he advises. Sure enough, any hint of danger disintegrates almost as soon as it is kindled. Loretta (irksome, wonderful, intrusive bitch as she is) leaps into action, just as his own Father steps in the way of any harm that might befall his sister. He was not worried of such a possibility—merely annoyed with it all, at the stupid harlot who intercepts and welcomes his sister to the herdlands.
Who? asks the harpy, the image of the great red bitch stamped in her eyes.
Loretta, answers the master.
Sire-dog?
Yes. Sire-dog.
’Retta, Ka’Ora tries; she is intelligent. Sire-dog. With a few heavy flaps, she launches herself into the sky, soaring about on a wind too fair for her master’s liking. Goodbye to ‘Cari?
It is such a feeble, hopeful little request, and Ka’Ora never asks for much. Reginald sighs. He sees his sister, how gorgeous she has become and is becoming; he sees how strongly she walks now, how proud her stride and slight her limp is, how she no longer needs the shoulder of her elder brothers as a crutch; he sees the starlight spilling from her body, truly magnificent, and if it weren’t for the eyes of their Father he would swear to himself that Mother walks the earth again.
He and Ka’Ora share the same heavy heart; the difference between them is pride. Do not linger long, he says, turning into the trees, heading south. There are things to be done; he has duties as a warrior. He cannot linger.
Ka’Ora soars for the yearling, circling overhead as she gazes with those mournful dark eyes down at the gathered party. She calls down to the sweet thing, the little sister she has grown to love with a heart that only resides halfway in her own body. She longs to land there, and nuzzle the legs of the fresh young girl before she makes her final farewell—she resists, however. Ka’Ora circles once, twice, three times, all the while calling down with her keening little song before she wheels southward, back to the wastes.
Oh! How she longs stay with her little ‘Cari—but master said not to linger long.
11-20-2015, 10:07 AM (This post was last modified: 11-20-2015, 10:09 AM by Macaria.)
macaria
palest shadow; darkest light
Macaria is no stranger to the icky, sticky touch of awkwardness. The one her age seems to be crushed by it at the moment and the dappled baby's eyes don't linger long. They flit, wandering and sweeping over the rolling mists and humid leaves. She watches her father for a moment, words starting to form on the edge of her pale lips but then her amber eyes dart northward, to the skies. Gliding above on big, serrated wings floats a familiar friend, her hums and songs creeping into the baby's heart like the roots of a life-tree. Her smile spreads naturally, wide and delighted, her eyes catching the dim sunlight that manages to pierce the thick mists. Ka'Ora. Macaria's memories of her big brother has always included her and her counterpart; the sharp eyed pair are a tell tale that Reginald lurks somewhere. Her head tipped as far is it will go, her bright eyes peeling out from underneath her long ivory lashes. She follows her circles, hoping to coax her down, to find out where her brother is.
Her surroundings fade, Vitanti, Loretta, her Father, they simply fade at the idea of Reginald's nearing. She cannot see him anywhere, though her eyes drift reluctantly from the harpy to the shadows, the churning mists and finally toward the falls. When her eyes return to the harpy's circles she finds only open sky...
Her are sinks down to her ankles and her stomach knots. She contemplates asking her father, but she's almost sure he wouldn't know where he is or why he will not come out. The moisture gathers in her wet eyes, brimming at the edges of her eyelids and threatening to fall down her soft pale cheeks. She fights it, resisting to blink until it burned, finally letting her eyes close and the flow of salty tears trickle down each cheek. She's shuffled to Archibald's side, finding his shoulder and burying her face into is fur. She does not sob, but finds the face-hiding method to be of some comfort...
Oh yeah...
She pulls it together. A few sniffles and rubbing of her tears onto her father's ebony coat and her eyes draw up to the girl. “What's your name?” Timid sounding, and through the stuffiness of a small weeping session. Blinking away the wetness in her saucer eyes, she tries to focus on the filly.
I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.
Archibald gives no mind to the tumultuous emotions that Vitani is feeling, unannounced to him. The invasion is many season past, and the girl needed to grow up and press on. Such was life. Of all the things he had taught his children, he was sure they knew this: Life goes on, with or without you. The teaching of that mindset to his boys had come before their mother's death, and Archibald could only imagine how much those words had resonated in their rib cages, standing over their mother's lifeless body as Archibald cradled it. Even in his mourning, however, the Dauntless had lowered his head and pressed on in life.
Death had not stopped him completely.
Golden eyes watched the two young girls, moving slowly and calculatedly between them. The warlord was a master at taking in and processing unspoken information, having to do so in battle more times than any of those gathered here could count at this point. The call of the harpy above him in the sky made his ears twitch some, and he lifted golden eyes and massive head to see the circling bird. It was familiar to him, but not in the way it was to his precious Macaria. The Dauntless knew it was the companion of his dappled son--he had seen it in the Dragon's Throat. Reginald was near, and Archibald nodded to himself. His son would be welcome in these lands, should his intentions remain...calm, save for a lack of words. While blood ran thicker than alliances, Archibald would not risk the safety of his herd. Should Reginald bring danger to these borders, the Dauntless would face it as the warhammer he was.
The presence of the crying raptor brought Macaria to his side, warm salty tears soaking his shoulder. The feeling was more familiar to Archibald than the girl knew, and he reached down to gently rub along her spine and withers. "It's okay, darling. They will come." He whispered, lifting his muzzle to brush against her tulip ears, as delicate and comforting as he could muster. It was true, Archibald was a bull in a china shop when it came to emotion, and while he could not offer this daughter of his the maternal affection she needed, his love for her would never be mistaken.
Lifting his monstrous head once more, Archibald nodded to the muddied filly that stood with them.
I had stayed quiet all this time, my mind rolling with emotions of both my own and Sarabi's. I know she wants to play, that was why she had run forward to greet this trio. But out of everyone she had to run at it had to be a Czar. His size made me fear him. He could easily crush me if he wanted to. I heard the call of the bird, but I paid it no mind as it meant nothing to me. Sarabi moves around around my legs, wanting to run off. It is only the voice of the girl that finally breaks the awkward silence that had fallen between us all. "My name is Vitani... I'm the daughter of the former Earth Medic Kiara and former Legatus Rostislav..." My voice trailed off, as it was the first time I had mentioned either of my parents in an introduction.
In a reaction to my emotions, Sarabi suddenly howled. I looked at her in concern, as her howl sounded pained. Was that how my emotions felt to her? My eyes turned from being full of concern to full of apology. I shouldn't be putting her though my emotions the way I was... But then again, maybe that was part of the bond. I don't think I can control that any more that my feeling her emptions. It's then I look back at the father and daughter pair, thinking that I should probably leave and let them be in peace... After all, if my Dad had just brought me home i'd want to be with just him too..... Not that I know if he's even alive... I turn my head to try and hide tears that are now forming in my dual colored eyes. Sarabi rubs gently against my front legs. So much for keeping my emotions hidden...
"speech here"
Sarabi Talks
ooc - obviously I fail at Vitani for this thread <3
short quote
Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image by semper
She appreciates the sweet hum of the thick bass in his voice. It was a loving stroke to her broken heart and his touch adds the blanket. She regains her composure, bright honey eyes both watching the filly who calls herself Vitani. Her parent's names mean very little, they must have been before her time, she thinks. She looks back to her father, her mind can only think of her brothers, of Reginald being so close she could feel him. She stops her front foot, it's muffled as it splits with a small thud onto the soil. “I have to go find him – them – at least one of my stupid brothers.” She grumbles, sniffling back more tears. Her eyes suddenly steady onto Vitani with hawk like focus. “It was very nice to meet you, but I have to go do something. ” The dappled baby offers nothing but an uncomfortable smile and a nod. Her companion's howl unsettles the dappled filly.
She turns to nuzzle her nose into her father's mane, rearing to curl a leg over him for a hug, balancing on her hind legs effortlessly. “I love you. I have to go find one of them.” She falls away from him gracefully and finds Loretta with her delicate nose. She loves her like she 's her own even if they do not share thoughts and emotions. The bond was there from the day Macaria was born – perhaps it's just the strong tie of Archibald that makes Mac love the dog so. Whatever it was, she never forgets to say hello or goodbye or have a nice snuggle in the grass with her father's loyal canine. She bends onto her knees with a bubbly giggling, furrowing her muzzle into the dog's fluffy shoulder. “I'll be back, watch Dad for me.” She ruffles the pup once more and gets back onto all four feet. Before her father can offer some sort of 'no don't go' or 'be safe' she darts away and says to the wind behind her, “Don't worry, I'll be fine!”
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