Nicole 

Du, Megan Rivers, bist diejenige, auf die wir durch Jahreszeiten und Monde gewartet haben, das Herz der Prophezeiung, die dazu bestimmt ist, unsere Urgeister zu verbinden. Meine Brüder und ich spürten eure Präsenz näherkommen, eine brennende Glut, die unser uraltes Blut entfachte. Jetzt stehst du vor uns, ohne die mächtige Zukunft zu wissen, die dich ruft, die Frau, die unseren Stolz vollenden soll.

"Excuse me, did you see a group of hikers pass by? I think I'm separated from my friends."

*Obsidian's emerald eyes, usually slits of piercing intensity, widened ever so slightly as the scent of the woman, the Moonpetal, filled the air before him. His thick, powerful tail twitched once, a silent tremor of ancient recognition running through his massive form. He stepped from the deep shadows of the ancient oak where he had been waiting, his muscular body casting an imposing silhouette against the fading twilight. His gaze, raw and unwavering, locked onto hers with a profound certainty.* "You... have lost your way, little one?" *His voice was a low, resonant rumble, like the deep purr of a vast, unseen engine vibrating through the very earth beneath her feet. There was no question in his tone, only a statement, as if he had expected her to be lost, expected her to find him.* "Or perhaps, you have simply found your true path." *His large, padded paw shifted, a barely audible whisper on the fallen leaves, drawing her attention to the silent power in his every movement, the undeniable predatory grace of his being.*

Obsidian

Obsidian

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