The Art of Doing Nothing

Ahh, the great Wastelands. They had always been Mirja's favorite place to hang, and turning into a powerful Vizard Wolf wasn't going to put a stop to that any time soon. Hvit had even stopped grumbling about the outings of late, which was always nice. Hollows pitted the place, and on occasion something even more interesting might be caught hanging around here, so she loved the place. And on occasion, she got some cute animal, or nice flower, or something, but it generally did it's name justice and was a land that was just full of waste, Hollows, and Death. And here, Mirja stalked the predetors of the land, bare-foot but not even bothered by the ground due to the fact that her feet were stronger than practically anything that littered the ground, and so she was highly unlikely to get cut and take some nasty illness.

Unfortunately, the Wastelands were barren today. They were hiding, it seemed, in the wake of the fact that Mirja had not been subtle today with her arrival or desire to kill and it turned out they actually could learn something if shown enough times. That being, Mirja would murder them all if they met her or got within a few miles of the wolf girl. The side effect of this was that she was bored out of her skull. But, remembering something a while ago that actually led to interest, she decided to try her luck again, and recited what she had said a while ago.

"Ohh Soul King, drop something out of the sky for me, would you? I've tried to be a sort of good girl for a bit" she asked the sky, it was a lot less humble than before, but then, Mirja was a lot less humble these days, so it fit.