War.

The obsidian goddess was made for it, constructed with the heart of a noble lion that hungered for blood, vengeance. She was supposed to be out there on the battlefield, fighting alongside her brethren! But no. Instead she was restrained within the borders like a child, and she was so beyond infuriated she refused to speak to Ktulu or Archibald. Logic and war strategy be damned! She knew the real reason why she’d been held behind- because she was a healer. Knowing natural poisons gave her the knowledge of natural remedial herbs as well, so even without her magic she was of use as a poisoner, warrior, and healer. It was obvious why she’d stay behind, but it still enraged her to no end. She was born to fight, after all.

Refusing to stay a moment longer, and already unhappy with Ktulu over her words to Hotaru, she stormed out of the borders with Ao at her heels, worried and nervous around her anger, and set off for a different scenery. A short walk became a long one, moon swallowed up in darkness to rise once more, and when Aodaun was too tired he slept upon her spine in silence. Thoughts swarmed inside her head, driving her crazy. She only wanted peace, an escape from the tangled web inside her mind. She sought it in the most beautiful, peaceful place she knew. The Grove.


Lakota had indulged Aodaun here, had met Thayne and his brilliant, gentlemanly self in the wooded area. Nought but a vagabond searching for a moment to herself at that time, it had still been one of the best days of her life, even as an Outcast. Sometimes she wished the Grey had never conquered the Foothills. Ever since they had, they’d changed, made obvious by Ophelia’s departure and Ktulu’s spoken desire to change things at the last meeting. Lakota just...needed to get away.

She worried for her family, for Arah, the only Basin soul she knew and cared for. She despaired, wishing she could have been there during the invasions, to protect even if she could not battle. It hurt her, angered her, and yet she was powerless regardless. The Grove was her escape, her safe haven, the place where she could laugh, cry, scream, and play with no repercussions, no judging gazes like what she’d meet back in the Foothills.

Did they not realize she was still imperfect? Emotions still lingered inside her cursed frame, as much as she wished to squash and destroy them.

But, she was not alone when she stepped over the threshold into the grotto. Aodaun was still slumbering peacefully upon her spine, a precious parcel. Lyrics, real lyrics with cadences of melody and rhythm, met her harks softly, faded. It was clear the singer was not far, but still unseen through obstacles and distance. Intrigued and more than delighted by the voice, she moved her ebony legs and her slim- but slowly growing back to normal due to her vow to Ktulu- frame was carried along towards the haunting words and sorrowful voice.

Violet irises glowed in the pale moonlight above as she wound her way through the trees, watching them fall away to reveal the maiden who had been singing so softly. Lo and behold, it was not an unknown, nameless, or faceless traveler who met her curious, guarded gaze. In fact it was the doe she’d been fretfully musing over mere moments ago. Arah trailed off and spoke something too soft for Lakota to catch, music no longer floating like mystic fog through the air to embrace those both lucky enough and close enough to hear it.

So relieved was she to discover her odd friend was alright, Lakota ran from her cover at a slow jog and called her name softly, happily. Her guard was completely down, harks high and eyes glowing bright with excitement and relief. Arah! Her voice, melodic and soft in her joyous call, managed not to awaken the slumbering polar bear upon her spine, something she was grateful for. Extending her muzzle almost desperately towards Arah, her eyes softened in an uncharacteristic display of fear, sorrow, and relief. I’m so glad you’re alright… she whispered softly, eyes hopeful, wishing Arah would return the friendly, intimate gesture.

Had she been harmed, Lakota would rip off every limb of the bastard that had dared to lay a single blow upon her, and would go by order of what hit her when and where. They did not deserve a quick death if they harmed her friend.