Wild Plains

Chapter Three

Shorlyn did not lie. The Great Wind was absolutely terrifying. Lyra didn't even realize it was the Wind at first - all she could comprehend was It's shape. She'd expected some sort of magical gust, but instead a colossal tornado thundered across the Plains. It headed steadily towards the foals before coming to a halt a mere hundred or so yards away. Most of the foals flat out bolted. Some fainted. A few even took shelter behind Lyra's great flank - colts and fillies that had bullied and belittled her since they were yearlings, cowering behind her now. As the Wind howled, storm clouds gathered, blotting out the sun and causing the gleaming of her coat to fade into a soft matte texture. The cool, damp shadow felt good on her hot and itchy back. Without really thinking, Lyra began to walk foward, towards the wind, leaving the assembly behind. She barely noticed as the adults began to gather alongside their foals. Her walk became a trot, which melted into a canter and finally a gallop as the magnetic pull of the great spirit called her closer and closer still. If she would've looked behind her, she would have seen Sanden standing proud and tall. (That was his daughter running bravely towards the Great Wind!) She couldn't hear hoofbeats behind her - in fact, there was only one sound in her ears - the rushing Wind. Not even the pounding blood that normally filled her ears during a flat-out sprint like this penetrated the awe-inspiring sound that filled the air now. She poured a lot into that gallop - her anger towards her biological mother, her frustration to the ones whom she was shunned by, her hopelessness whenever she thought of a long, difficult life in a Clan who hated her for something she had no control over. She travelled faster than she ever had before, and began to run in tight circles around the cyclone. Soon, she slowed down - somehow knowing exactly what to do - and entered the small eye of the storm at a trot. It was an incredible sight - the walls of dust and cloud rose around her, seemingly impenetrable. Birds circled inside it ahead of her, most likely unlucky enough to have been caught in the storm yet lucky enough to survive with wings intact. Her mane lifted off her neck in a strong breeze - it was gentle, however, compared to what she'd just run though.

"Hello, Lyra of Plainsclan," boomed an impressively loud voice. Lyra wanted so bad to bolt from it, as were her instincts, but she pushed that fear down. She'd come all this way after all, to a place no one else dared to come.

"Ah, good," It spoke again, seemingly pleased. "I wasn't sure if you would bolt or not. I am pleasantly suprised."

Lyra could swear that it chuckled after that, but maybe it was just thunder.

"Great Wind?" she called into the stormy walls. She wanted to say, 'is that you?' but refrained from doing so because obviously it was the Wind, and she didn't want to look stupid in front of It. Or... in the middle of It, she conceded. "I am honored to be speaking with you," she went with instead, speaking the truth. She could swear that she heard another one of those thunderous chuckles - it made her bones rattle.

"And I am honored to be speaking with you, young one," It told her. "I have watched you grow up, and found that you are strong, capable, and most of all, full of love for Plainsclan. So I have summoned you here to me today. Your blood may not belong to the Shifters of the Plains, but your heart does, more purely and fully than any of the foals your age."

Lyra has having a really, really hard time comprehending what was happening. She, of all foals, was being Chosen. An outsider. One who was supposed to amount to nothing. Her. Lyra.

"Like Former Lead Stallion Brushtail, and like current Lead Mare Shorlyn, you, Co-Lead Filly Lyra will lead soon lead your Clan," It continued. Lyra's eyes were glued to the swirling walls of the storm as they began to dissapate. The wind began to whip her mane and tail furiously. The birds fought the crazy currents to stay in the air. The voice, however, grew stronger. Louder. It boomed across the plains, to where the assembled Clan could hear It's voice. "Do you, Lyra, daughter of Sanden, and filly of the Plains promise to lead Plainsclan to it's full potential and glory, doing what you believe best for everyone involved, least of all yourself?" It asked her.

Taking a deep breath, Lyra stood tall. The protective twister walls were all but gone now, and the Clan could see her. "I do," she called loudly to It. Her voice boomed out across the land, somehow magnified. It both scared her and exited her.

"And do you promise to protect your Clan from outside threats such as coyotes, mountain lions, or even other Caballashifters?" It prompted her again.

Lyra knew she wasn't as brave a fighter as Shorlyn, but she knew she could - and would - use her great size and strength to fight off enemies. "I do," she called again. The boom of her voice suprised her again, but not as much this time. Her heart was still pounding, but it was slower now. The exhertion from her run was beginning to wear off, and a feeling of strength, of sureness, of confidence began to almost overwhelm her. She looked up to the sky as the voice spoke one last time.

"Then I name you Co-Lead Filly of Plainsclan. May your rule be unchallenged, successful, prosperous, and most of all, true..."