i'm told that to be human i must stand still
you can try your hardest, but i never will
For a moment she is confused, blinking blearily around her as she tries to discern nightmare from reality. She remembers the fire, but this meadow stretches bright and unburnt, no charcoal or scent of smoke lingering about her. The others are awakening too, finally released from whatever had dragged them into slumber.
But the nightmares hardly matter now. They still have a quest to complete, flowers to gather. A world to save, though that is not what had drawn her here to begin with. No, it is the novelty and adventure, the newness of it all. But the dreams leave a sour taste on her tongue, a lingering disquiet in her gut. Making her forget for a moment her fascination with the wolf-man she had followed here in favor of completing her task and escaping this wretched meadow.
There is nothing quite as soul-searing to a young and wild girl like Ferran as being caught helplessly in a snare she could never see and could never escape.
So, ears low against her skull, she peers around her, seeking the flowers she had been sent for, intent on gathering them and leaving as quickly as possible. She cares not if the others linger, but she does not like this place. It sets her instincts on edge and prickles spidery fingers along her spine, a constant reminder of the nightmare she had too recently escaped. Of a nightmare that might still await her.
She plucks her flowers quickly, heeding their colors and taking care not to bruise them between her sharp teeth. Yellow flowers, the most vibrant color to her canine senses. She clutches their stalks in her teeth, their vibrant petals tickling her lips and cheek. She does not try to shift to equine, her canine jaw far better suited to such delicate work. She pays little mind to the others, focused only on her task and her escape.
When she has her small bouquet of wildflowers, she quickly takes her leave. Her lean, wolfish frame stretches into a ground-eating lope as she clears the meadow and slips into the trees, making her way swiftly and directly to the mountain where the fairies wait. Her path there is easy enough, her small frame slipping agily through the underbrush, paws gripping as she pads easily over rock and stone on the steep ascent to the mountains peak.
When she reaches it’s plateau, returning to the circle of fairies who had dispatched them on their quest, she drops her small bundle of blooms at their feet. She lifts her face to them, gaze bold as she takes a step back before settling onto her haunches, ears sharp and eyes focused.
ferran