She was unaware of the politics that went around here. The only thing that she really understood was there were packs and there was one particular pack that she wanted nothing to do with. This particular pack housed the annoying prideful pup named Ayal, a spoiled rotten child that needed a serious dose of reality. There were times when she just wanted to sink her fangs into the girl’s neck and break it, or leave her pure white face marred and disfigured like her own. Maybe then she would learn to respect others and their different ways. Moving her shoulders some not too concerned with the spoiled pup her silver tipped ebony ears moved back and forth atop of ebony cranium.

“She was grey with white tail tip, carried herself as if she were some true sight to bow down to. Got real touchy when I asked if she was an Assassin, only because she brought up that I spoke the Assassin and Angel vernacular. When I called her an Assassin, which I assumed she was training to be, apparently I was wrong. Who are these, Angels, and why do they consider themselves better than the rest?”

It was stupid really. Calling yourself after some sort of mythological flying fairy. Really. Ayal acted nothing more than a Demon. Oh she would surely be in a topsy turvy world if there was a pack here that called themselves Demons. That was the last thing she needed to hear at this point, that she was around crazy lupine. She was better off staying away from the world and being alone. At least then she wouldn’t be running around believing she was around magical fairies. With an indignant snort she turned her dial away from him, indigo eyes looking down at the landscape below. She would tilt her head to the side when she felt his form shift and move. Flicking her tail to the side she watched as he lied himself on his back, still feeling his warmth along her side. Slowly she brought her head down over her paws allowing the moon’s silver ways to make that diamond patch shine like beacon along that obsidian pelt. Her half-torn ear twitched slightly as he responded to her former comment. A soft sigh escaped her scarred muzzle as she dug it between her paws her tail swaying side to side in a smooth pattern, but when it knocked into his own tail she quickly laid it down and curled it over her back paw. She would raise her ebony head and tilt it so that the brute lying beside her would have a good look at her marred face. Three faded pink jagged lines started from the side of her forehead trailing down over her eyes, the scars getting thin and then wide as it smeared over her cheek down her muzzle. It was hard to tell just what sort of animal made those marks, it could have been a cougar, or a bear, maybe in a coyote, but whatever it was it did enough damage to the poor girl. She followed the misology belief.

“There isn’t much to do really. Sleep and then wake up, wander around, eat and drink something and stay away from others. Find a new place to rest and sleep. Then start it all over again. An endless cycle.”

Funny. She worked like a clock- never stopping, never changing, and just kept going as if everything was okay. Ah, the life of a loner.