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Description
Artlette padded forward, her soft paws making no sound on the autumn covering of the forest floor. Her tail twitched nervously as she continued forwards, the tiny wings flapping agitatedly against her back. Her sleek fur shone brightly in the tiny shafts of moonlight that filtered through the treetops, but her rainbow colouring was bleached to silver in the night sun. There was no sound of pursuit now - was she getting paranoid? No...they had been hunting her; it was unlikely that they would let her escape them so easily. She swallowed and shivered. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Why? She had always known she was not truly a part of the pack, but this had been unexpected. The sudden sprouting of feathery wings from two minute lumps on her shoulders had shocked everyone, and now they had brought nothing but isolation and running.

She had been seen one night, by a human child, gazing from his bedroom window. He had cried out in excitement at a winged wolf, and the men had come running with their nets and tranquilizers. Artlette knew what they would do. Cage her and display her to travellers and villagers alike, taking their gold to see such a phenomenon. As all wolves did, she feared that captivity so had done as the pack alpha bid her - she had run, for their protection and her own. It had been hard breaking from all she knew to a life of running. It wasn’t fair - wolves are not meant to be solitary creatures, and the three days of isolation were already getting to her.

Finally she broke through the trees, stumbling to a halt on the edge of a vast open plain. She stood blinking for a moment in the sudden light, staring around at the sudden space. She shook her long mane and started forwards only to freeze. Her sensitive ears had caught the barest of noises from the forest she had left moments before. The crack of a twig some way back, then the crackle of a dry leaf. Her head was turned back towards the trees; her ears cocked listening intently, and her paw frozen midway through a step.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins as a finally tiny sound, the faint click of a loaded gun, reached her ears. All stiffness left her and she ran, a flowing silver streak across the landscape that soon disappeared. She must learn to fly to truly escape, and impossible feat until her wings had fully grown.

I’m alive...I’m alive....

Artlette (c) ~magical-badger
One shot (c) ~cerulean-skies
(Note: I made up this one shot with the permission of ~magical-badger . This does not bear any truth to the character’s real background; it is just a story to explain the picture better.)

Description
Artlette padded forward, her soft paws making no sound on the autumn covering of the forest floor. Her tail twitched nervously as she continued forwards, the tiny wings flapping agitatedly against her back. Her sleek fur shone brightly in the tiny shafts of moonlight that filtered through the treetops, but her rainbow colouring was bleached to silver in the night sun. There was no sound of pursuit now - was she getting paranoid? No...they had been hunting her; it was unlikely that they would let her escape them so easily. She swallowed and shivered. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Why? She had always known she was not truly a part of the pack, but this had been unexpected. The sudden sprouting of feathery wings from two minute lumps on her shoulders had shocked everyone, and now they had brought nothing but isolation and running.

She had been seen one night, by a human child, gazing from his bedroom window. He had cried out in excitement at a winged wolf, and the men had come running with their nets and tranquilizers. Artlette knew what they would do. Cage her and display her to travellers and villagers alike, taking their gold to see such a phenomenon. As all wolves did, she feared that captivity so had done as the pack alpha bid her - she had run, for their protection and her own. It had been hard breaking from all she knew to a life of running. It wasn’t fair - wolves are not meant to be solitary creatures, and the three days of isolation were already getting to her.

Finally she broke through the trees, stumbling to a halt on the edge of a vast open plain. She stood blinking for a moment in the sudden light, staring around at the sudden space. She shook her long mane and started forwards only to freeze. Her sensitive ears had caught the barest of noises from the forest she had left moments before. The crack of a twig some way back, then the crackle of a dry leaf. Her head was turned back towards the trees; her ears cocked listening intently, and her paw frozen midway through a step.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins as a finally tiny sound, the faint click of a loaded gun, reached her ears. All stiffness left her and she ran, a flowing silver streak across the landscape that soon disappeared. She must learn to fly to truly escape, and impossible feat until her wings had fully grown.

I’m alive...I’m alive....

Artlette (c) ~magical-badger
One shot (c) ~cerulean-skies
(Note: I made up this one shot with the permission of ~magical-badger . This does not bear any truth to the character’s real background; it is just a story to explain the picture better.)