• Alamea
    (Al-ah-may-ah)

    The sun bled hot gold onto her back, and birds screamed of the day above as morning unfurled its vibrancy. Chocolate paws swept over the ground with forward motions, carrying the lithe bodice of a young canine. Skidding to a stop on the tattered, crunching leaves on the forest floor, the pup let a sonorous call erupt from her vocals, snapping her cinder maw shut soon after. As two more howls
    filled her velveteen auds, she walked on, satisfied. The incipient mists of morning swam about her like thorns of a rose. In the miasma of thin vapor, the fae’s brindle pelt and wings appeared three shades lighter. The one-eyed fox stopped in her tracks. A miniscule white rabbit froze for a split second, then darted away. The fem bolted after it, letting her alabaster, grey-speckled wings carry her off into the quiescent air. The white speck of fur below was apparently quicker than she, and by the time she landed, the animal was far off into the wild. It didn’t matter, though. She was used to the perfunctory failure. A sprightly wind, coming from behind, rustled the maroon and royal blue feathers that rested behind her ear, along with her vivid pelt. A dramatic sigh sent a clear haze into her personal bubble, but quickly cleared away. Letting her haunches drop, she let her underweight frame rest, but only for a moment’s time. Then, she would continue her interminable walk. Her amaranthine orb remained closed as she let the cool mist overcome the warmth that swept over her.
    Lowering her nape, she let her body fall, curled up on the ground, and waited. Waited for energy to be restored. Waiting for the wave of heat to rise away.

    This is Alamea.
    Alamea the lonely.
    Alamea the unique.