We were chasing the thunder inside the storm;

The beach was cold, the brusque icy wind was enough to cut through clothing and skin to chill you to the bone. Not Mira, not with that lava that flowed hotly through her veins, it was a good night practicing that affinity, to summon that very molten substance, to shape and control it and merge them with those newer powers. She felt herself utterly spent by the time she was done, spending countless hours tucked away with her own private cove, free from prying eyes. How often she had found herself there, content to let that time melt away amongst the crashing ocean waves. Finding comfort within the sizzling sounds of when that lava met the ebb and flowing inky waters. How she relished these nights, growing fond of that thick salty air.

It was easy to lose track of time, it was far later than she intended to be out, there wasn't a soul in sight...and tonight, it felt.. peaceful to the she-wolf. A welcomed surprise, even despite that whistling, howling wind sending her rich cappuccino locks tousled locks into a random disarray. How in those unfathomable moments she completely let her guard down while she meandered along that abandoned beach, enjoying the quietude of the walk back to the Ark like she had done countless times before. At least until an eerie distance howl could be heard in the distance and there was something distinctly familiar about it. But what? It must have been the wind she thought, dismissing that very though and yet still. Mira can barely help the way she froze, peering behind her, hardly out of fear but more to sate her own nagging curiosity.

Nothing.. Yet, even she couldn't reject the distinct sound of that wolf was unmistakable. After a moment, she pushes it from her mind, continuing her walk, her posture slightly more alert than it was before. How the sound, even now, after all this time was enough to keep the she-wolf wary. Plucking the strings of a haunting memory of a pack long gone. Tetradore and her had defeated a small handful of those familiar faces those months ago. How convinced that that chapter of her life had closed. There was no one left to spy on her now. Unless her old alpha decided to get off his lazy ass and come here himself. How quick she was to doubt these worries.

If only she knew that one particular thorn in her side from that night had escaped that night to sing that tale of confirmation that Mira was indeed alive, and apart of the western pack. How word of that, if leaked would have been a dangerous thing. Another howl rips through that whistling wind again, this time far closer than before. There was no mistaking it now, it sends her skin crawling like it were alive. "Shit.." she cursed quietly to herself.

Mira wasn't an easy person to spook, but this seemed to cause her nerves ablaze. She shrugged, looking once more behind her. She could feel their eyes before she confirmed them peering like angry silhouettes on that horizon of the terrible pack she had once known. She saw the outline of at least two to three wolves and a man with a gun. Pointed at her. They were still far enough away, their scent carefully swept downwind.

The Ark was within blatantly within sight now, she could see that gargantuan ship tower over the harbor. Just within reach and yet so very far. It looked like there were fights still going on judging by the lights and the tiny dots of people bustling about, yet they are still so helplessly far away to matter. Even still, the she-wolf was not truly one to ask for help, not by any means, hardly one to feel compelled to tug on those lines that lead to her pack. These were her ghosts after all, not theirs. She would not risk any one of them in the face of the danger and perhaps she could hardly help that nagging sense of.. shame.

Not that it mattered now when the sudden crack of a gunshot ripped through that very peace that once clung to her. That bullet sang with a vengeance right by her head. The dark haired she-wolf had no choice to duck. Her golden eyes seem to possess a hot fury before she ran.. Ran like her life depended on it because in those moments, she truly did. There was no way in hell she was going back to that place, not now that she had carved a life out for herself here and the sweet taste of freedom was certainly something worth dying for. If not that, what else?

She didn't need eyes at the back of her head to know the wolves were in hot pursuit, on the hunt with Mira as their prey. She shifted then with an erupting force, causing most of her clothing to be ripped to shreds, that necessity seemed to over shadow her need for clothing in those terse moments. She would pick that veritable battleground in which she fought, to solidify where she would stand her ground. There was no way they would take her back alive, no way she would allow herself to simply be dragged back to her own hell. It felt good allowing that wolf out, feeling so very much at home in that lupine skin. A guttural growl rips passed her lips, summoning that thick cloud of ash to envelope her. This time it was ivory white, falling slowly like thick falling snow. How she lets it swirl within that wind around her to nearly encase her form entirely. She stands her ground, only minutes away from the Ark, where the beach met the concrete wasteland and yet she is still too far. Perhaps it was better this way. Her form smoothly whirls to face them, legs braced, molten glowing paws sinking into the damp sand below forging a soft sizzling from where she stood. Now she waits, waits for that assault that was sure to come. At least this was worthy cause to fight, to fight for the wings of her own freedom.

Let them come.

I'd rather be dangerous;

MIRA RAMOS