Daybreak ☀️

She/her pronouns
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Daybreak was a dedicated leader. She really did give it her all - the new land she awoke in was cold, harsh… unforgiving, but this little unnamed pack welcomed her warmly. She had great guidance, always 3 equals to fall back on - and that's only counting the official heirs! The hunting parties, her dear friend Morning the herbalist, Daybreak never felt the weight of leadership as heavily as many other pack leads.

But she did feel it. She owed so much to her new people, while she was too unsuited for these frozen wastes to join a hunting party and the moon knows she'd have no idea where to even start looking for herbs up here, what she did know was how to interface with other creatures. Be it diplomacy, or… coercion.

So she guarded their land. Did an awful lot more fighting, training, than any pack leader ever should. And when she discovered how to enter the Dreamlands in her sleep - the place that so surely, that must be the underlying cause or related to or have something to do with the plague that befell and displaced herself and so many others - she threw herself right in.

The Dreamlands is an unusual place. Many creatures Daybreak had never met before recognized her face, though didn't know her by name. She learned much, how to better heal the plague-stuck sleepers, the underlying rules of this world and hers, and perhaps, just a few hints on what might have caused the plague.

But some of the most memorable experiences came completely unrelated to her goal. The Dreamlands didn't seem to have a direct connection to the physical world - in the night, under the full moon, her sleeping form would remain in the den. Her mind would travel much farther than she herself could ever hope to reach. A rainforest. The midst of the desert. Places she had only heard of in stories. Places that would take twice her lifespan to reach.

When she awoke, everything she held was brought back with her. Anyone who watched would inevitably fall asleep just before she regained consciousness. Daybreak lived through many full moons, and it was the same for each.

Sometimes she brought back more than wisdom and exotic trinkets.

Once, a wise fox who she saved from a strange, sickly-furious bear lent her his pelt to keep her warm in the chill of her homeland. She awoke to find her own pelt thickened, burning like the sun on a long summer's day. It offered some warmth, and much confusion.

Many times, the denizens of the dreamlands would take joy in painting her. They wouldn't touch her new pelt, bright like a sun they would never see, but her legs were free reign for the smaller creatures. She traded them this privilege in return for small tidbits of knowledge - rumours, unusual sightings, bits and pieces of their moon religion. Each time she would awaken, her undersides bearing faded paints that would never wash out.

One full moon Daybreak went to sleep as usual - surrounded by her herbalist, scout, and fellow leaders, Come morning, her entourage slipped into a brief nap, as usual. When they awoke Daybreak was gone. Their best stalkers, scouts, every free wolf in the pack went searching. The stalkers confirmed: her trail began and ended in that den. She never left.

A lunar cycle passed by, and Morning near forced her way into the dreamlands herself to search for their missing leader. She was held back by the pack. If one wolf could be swallowed whole, taken while they were defenceless, why not more? They couldn't afford to lose their herbalist, not with the plague still raging.

In the end, Morning didn't need to take that risk. At daybreak, the night of the full moon, the near-scouts found Daybreak. Face down in a shallow creek, framed on each side by lunar detritus. Fur. Feathers. Scales. Strange metals the pack couldn't even name. And Daybreak herself… it appeared as if the lunar energy had burnt itself across her back.

She awoke half-blinded. With only brief flashes filling in her recollection on what happened that night - that month - she had little to say. Daybreak never returned to the dreamlands, instead taking up a vigil each full moon. Now having had her one sole duty taken away, she threw herself into the land of the waking.

It was probably good for her, entertaining visitors from the living world - actual wolves, not strange creatures that spoke in riddles and changed shapes when you blinked. Perhaps she took a little too much company in her guests, took on a few too many companions over the long nights. But who could deny her this retirement?

There was however a worry… would whatever burnt itself into her, left its lunar mark on her body and soul, pass on to any descendants? Some pups arrived blue and foggy eyed, some black as pitch, some coming in colours too bright, too bold, too unnatural to go unnoticed…
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Final look
Original name "Urrukpa", means light in the African language Edo.
From Raven #38269
Original Look F 2y11.5M and 226 stats