Joramun Rowan Snow had risen before the sun had, as she almost always did. She had always found it quite fitting to rise two hours before dawn at the hour of the wolf. Wolf's blood ran through her veins, the blood of her father dead before her birth. Her mother had told her how he walked on snow with light paws, his wolf Ghost always at his heel.
Ghost had disappeared after he was gone, the white wolf with red eyes.
Her mother said that she had some of his coloring and ever since she was old enough, she had fashioned herself a cloak to wear as her father had. Her mother had told her of the "wolf's blood" that ran in her father's veins, blood that had brought his true born aunt Lyanna and Uncle Brandon to an early grave. Her mother had given two of her three older siblings those names in honor. But neither of them had been cursed with the wolf's blood as she had.
Her wild heart beat in her chest as she ran light-pawed across the wet ground. Soon there would be snow blanketing her world in Winter and with the cold, came other hazards.
Joramun snapped her head around scenting the air. One quiet paws she moved with her head load following the smell of something feline. As she drew closer, she realized that the smell was from an animal much larger than a cougar--something more akin to herself.
Slowly she moved through the trees until she could see a stallion stretching in the sunshine like a cat. Not a walker. Pushing through the trees, she stopped at the edge letting her eyes glow and glower at him from the treeline.
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