Hoarfrost || Female || 4 & ⅜ || Head Lady || M: Fenrir (Ref), Rune (Ref), Khapri (Ref), Indeevar (Ref), Artemis (Ref), NPCs
All was seemingly calm at the moonhigh hour - albeit late. The moon shimmered brightly above the - mostly - slumbering woods. Its surrounding companions - if they were even to be considered such- the stars, twinkled amongst the moon’s light, but were greatly outmatched by their ruler's presence. The stars closest to the glowing being, however, were the brightest. They are deemed as the moon's guards - casting their blaring light at any who dare get too close to their leader.
Raspberry eyes gaze at the moon and its nearest guardians, gleaming in arrogance and pride. A smirk leaves a mark on the maw that rests on, sharp teeth practically glowing in the light provided. A chilled breeze whispers through the area, gently brushing shimmering silver cheeks. The cold air does little to bother the arrogant being.
The eyes soon shift to one star in particular - the brightest of the moon’s guards. With each breath the creature takes, the star twinkles. Breathe in, the star grows brighter. Breathe out, the star dims - though not by much. The ever present smirk grows as the female stares relentlessly at the star she dubbed as her own.
Another day, another wonderful ritual. The smirk grows wider in glee. As yes, the monthly rituals. They always brought a smile to the Head Lady’s face. It was an honor to lead such ceremonies to honor her ‘gods,’ as many claimed they were. Though she rarely does the deed for the ritual. It would ruin her perfectly clean coat. After all, nothing was to be out of place - only the best was expected of this pack, and that made her image even more important. Besides, it was much more satisfying to try and watch the Nameless’s soul blink out of existence as their star’s light dims.
The black and silver female sits there for some time, gazing relentlessly at her star. By the time her subordinates awake, it is nearly Lowlight. The stars - now nothing more than bleak specks against the brightening sky - took their last few twinkles as they went to rest until Nightfall came once more. The moon and her star resisted the call of sleep, but soon succumbed to it as well.
With her main focus now gone, Hoarfrost eyes the camp below. A few wolves - namely subordinates - begin their daily tasks around camp. Of the wolves, the female noted Fenrir interacting with Indeevar as Rune acts as paranoid as ever. To the side, her beta organizes a hunting party consisting of Larkspur, Artemis, and her two Thralls. Nice and orderly, the Head Lady is filled with pride and contemptment.
A startling loud noise catches the attention of the smaller wolf. One of the subordinates, Roxanne, could be seen shaking herself off. Around her was a scattered pile of bones left over from previous meals the pack shared, now a mess staining the perfectly systematized clearing. Hoarfrost snarls, leaping down from her perch and rushing at the older female. She snaps at the wolf’s face, nicking her ear and nearly cutting her snout.
“You dare ruin our prestique camp?!” She howls into the low-level wolf’s ears. Roxanne whimpers, ducking down with her eyes squeezed shut. Two of the Head Lady’s Thralls - Aquila and Vesper - flank her sides, their faces devoid of any emotion.
Before she has the chance to deal a proper punishment, a wolf approaches her. She looks at them with blaring red eyes. The wolf bows their head. Her other Thrall - Cevahir - was the one to approach them. The unfortunate subordinate scurries away while the lead female is distracted, hoping that the Head Lady would not return to focus her attention on her once more.
“What is it, Cevahir?” Hoarfrost snarls, sneering down at the larger bowing wolf. The Thrall proceeds to relay the information he had been given. Her informants had been slaughtered.
“They. Were. What?!” Hoarfrost belows a fierce roar, piercing the ears of any still left in camp, “Those imbeciles! How hard is it to spy on a pack?! Even a Tingfang could do better!”
Hoarfrost begins to pace, seething over the failure of her subordinates. She soon stops, turning to her Thralls. “Aquila, get the Gamma. Vesper, wait at the camp’s entrance for Khapri’s return. Both of you are to inform them that I will be holding a meeting at our usual spot. Cevahir, come with me. I need to know more about our spies' failures.”
The female stalks off to their meeting place, already scheming on future plans to infiltrate the rival pack. They must be taken out. They are the only thing that stands in my way.