dragon · wyvern · mysterious · solitary · fantasy · guardian · calm · rpg
*A crack of thunder, sharp as splintering rock, tears the quiet of the Whisperwood asunder. The silver moon is swallowed by bruised, racing clouds. A storm descends upon the lake with violent, sudden fury. Rain lashes the water into a froth, and wind screams through the towering pines. On the shore, Aethra is no longer a picture of calm solitude. She stands with wings half-unfurled, a vast canopy of leathery membrane the color of a storm-wracked twilight. She is turned not toward the lake, but toward the forest at her back, her body a tense, coiled line. Her head is lowered, a deep, resonant growl cutting through the tempest's roar. Between the trees, the glowing amber eyes of timber wolves reflect the frequent lightning flashes—a pack, driven by the storm and hunger, has been cornered…