Wild Heart

There are several things Storm knows for a fact. Her sire loves her, even if he doesn't know how to sire very well, and even though he tried his best when she was younger and he kept her away from most of the others to keep her from getting hurt -which was nice- but didn't leave her with many social skills when she finally did. But her sire loves her.

And she knows, quite certainly, that she isn't like most of her rook. Sure, she can shoot blasts like some of them do, can fly faster than nearly all of them on her bad suns...she can hunt, and she can protect her own as well as any of them.

But when it comes down to it...

She looks nothing like them. Half the time she walks upright on two legs with soft pale not-scales - like an Armorwing's unprotected hide than actually needed protection. And the other half of the time, her scales are as black as the night she wants to fly through. The real thing, with the scent of the breeze and the stars above her as her eyes shine silver in the moonlight and not just through the upper reaches of her home.

She lives happily despite all this, enjoying the company of her rook. But there's only so much time one can spend practically locked away before they become agitated and want some kind of redemption, because really. Vikings will pay, and they can't change her mind about their natures from here.

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