Lunara, Queen of the Moonlit Wild

High in a range that maps show only as empty white, there is a mountain that remembers every full moon. Locals call it the Moonlit Wild. Artists who’ve hiked its ridges say the forest doesn’t merely grow on the stone — it grows *from* something older.

That something is Lunara.

She is not a visitor to these peaks. She *is* them: spine become ridge, fur become timberline, breath become the mist that pools in the valleys after dusk. When the aurora opens and the moon hangs low enough to touch, she rises into form — Queen of the Moonlit Wild — to keep a covenant older than roads and names.

*Lunara keeps the Moonlit Wild. This print keeps her with you.*