A side tale from E’vahona, in which a certain panther is not amused.

They left her.

Again.

Not with a heartfelt goodbye.

Not with a whispered promise.

Just… gone. One morning, Keisha’s scent was fading on the wind. Ong’s too. The skies stirred with dragon wings, and Pumpkin had watched from the treetop, tail twitching.

They went to Lyra’el.

They took dragons.

They took Pegasi.

They did not take her.

And now she was stuck in paradise.

E’vahona shimmered with beauty.

Crystal pools. Singing trees. Soft moss trails kissed by light.

Disgusting.

The chipmunks no longer approached her. Even the butterflies seemed to hover elsewhere. She wasn’t hunting she was lurking. Glaring. Stalking air. Letting her disdain be known.

Silvara landed nearby once, wings folded, voice low and silvery:

“You know they’ll return, don’t you?”

Pumpkin blinked. Turned her head deliberately away.

Then padded to a flower bed and sat directly on it.

Silvara’s tail coiled neatly beside her.

“They left because they trust you’ll be safe here.”

Pumpkin flattened her ears and hissed at a passing squirrel for no reason at all.

Safety was overrated.

She missed Keisha’s scent.

She missed Ong’s low, comforting voice.

She missed the danger. The sky battles. The flash of arrows and dragonfire.

She missed being needed.

So, she created a bit of chaos.

Knocked over two healer tents with a single swipe.

Unburied the same sacred herb patch three days in a row.

Stole someone's ceremonial sandals and drowned them in the moonwell.

Slept in the sacred circle. Snored.

When a nervous apprentice asked Silvara what was wrong, the silver dragon said: “She has been… excluded. She is making that clear.”

Pumpkin wasn’t sad.

She wasn’t abandoned.

She just should have been there.

Next time?

She was riding on a dragon.

Claws out, tail high, and no one, not even Silvara, would stop her.