Summer burns fierce and hot and nigh on intolerable. The lack of rain means the woods are dry, and prone to fires that consume swaths of dry brush and trees and make way for fresh growth to break through. The sun beats down, unforgiving and relentless. It is enough to drive even the most intrepid to the shadows and the caves, even at risk of the predators that lurk there.
These days there's a strange shadow in the lands of Soquili, born just as summer begins to die. The legendary terrors Ninetails and Stormcaller were not the parental type, abandoning the baskets they produced to terrorize the lands in their own time. Their children, consequently, knew nothing of them beyond rumors they might overhear, and even then held no familial affection nor interest in them. Indeed when their own baskets released them upon the world they were solely occupied with survival and the building of their own power and legend.
Moving through the autumn-kissed woods in their feral form, Tengu Shockwing traveled with little more than the whisper of wings, the crackle of electricity, and the soft near soundless strike of paws. They remain masked and mantled, wings half-folded in a way that adds stability and a gliding lift to each leap they take. A confusing mix of paws and wings and feathers, of rending beak and claws, they do their best to avoid others, having little interest in interactions beyond the occasional hunt or fight. Too strange and feral and fierce to befriend, dripping ink and lightning, flashing fierce claws and a snapping beak.
They need no one.
They call themselves Tengu Shockwing.
Wordcount: 274
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