I was not taught to throw my dominance around others. I was taught to be dominant in a subtle way. I am not pleased that he has entered the only place that I know to be safe. This is Mothers den. She made this our home. I was getting older. My taste in milk was fading. The scent of meat, and the few bits of meat Mother provided me eased the cravings. It wouldn’t be long before Mother would leave me. She was not meant to be in a pack, this I know. I see how she acts. She is miserable here. Yet, this is our home. Once Mother left, this would be the only thing I have left to remind me that I had a parent that cared about me. Although I am not supposed to worry about being cared for, I can only assume that this thought is due to being the daughter of a male that would rather embrace his feelings, than embrace his killing instinct. It is not good, but it is rather comforting, if I must admit. Yet for now, this place is still my home, my sanctuary and I do not want someone that doesn’t belong to remain here. I know I am small and I am aware that I will fall to the ground, after I make an attack to bite his ears. Yet when I reach the ground I quickly roll over to my four paws. I am not allowed to show my belly, that would be a weakness and I am not my Father. I am not startled by his growls, Mother’s is much more terrifying. I raise my head, showing my sharp teeth, my voice is calm, collected, controlling the annoying high pitched voice that comes with being a puppy.

“Iromar is my home too, but the den belongs to Mother.”
“Iromar- domi quoque meus et Mater ad lacum.”

As he gets closer to me, I stand my ground. My ebony head is held high, my trimmed red ears twitch and point towards him, letting him know I am focused only on him. My tail, streaked with red below stands, like a warning flag. My crimson diamond patched forehead isn’t the only mark I carry. According to my Father, my marks mean something. Each of my paws and legs are soaked with a dark red, showing that I will follow the Demon Code without fail. My red trimmed ears say that I will be a good diplomat, and my tail signifies I would be a good messenger. I take pride in knowing that I will be a smart wolf according to the mark along my forehead. However, the design that I take the most pride in, is the v-shape mark along my chest carrying over to my shoulders. Mother carries this mark, as well as the matching cursed mark, and this particular favorite marking of mine signifies that I will be an excellent killer and I will have bloodlust. I am the perfect creation, designed to be a killer. Yet I was not born for destruction. I must be created for it. As Mother says, Monsters are not born, they are created. I am sure with her teachings, my blood lineage, and my Demon pack I will become such good things. This I know, must be true, because why else would mother give me a name that indicates Death?

“I am a Demon. My Father is the Omega, but I carry no weakness. I am marked like you. I speak Latin, like you. I am a Demon and after the blood ceremony, I will fully belong. I crave the desire to hunt, to kill, and these I will be good at, but I will be good at so much more.”
“Ego sum a daemone. Omega est Pater, sed non ferre infirmitatem. Quod unxit me sicut et te fecit. Latine loqui coactus sum similis tui. Lustrum post monem sanguis sum ego plene pertinent. Venari desiderio peto, occidere, et ego ad bonum, sed tanto plus erit.

I nod my head up and down in assurance, as I slam one red paw into the ground. My stance is still strong, for one ever so small. I notice he carries similar markings. I am among one that is not only a pack member, but a Demon. I must learn all that I can, to be involved with the pack. After all, that is what we are supposed to do, right? If he does not believe what I say to him, then I will prove to him and everyone else just what I am capable of. With a determined look in my intense amethyst eyes, I look him squarely in his. I am not challenging him that is not what I am showing. Yet, I am giving him an early look that I will be something great, once I reach out of this puppy stage. I will be intimidating like him, I will be a full-fledged member, like him…I will be something great, maybe….like him.

“I want to be the Ferryman or the Archduke when I get older.”
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit Ferryman aut Archduke, ego adepto senior.”

Indeed I am lustful. Yet I do not desire the warmth of males. I am a pup, not a silly teenager. I crave to be the Demon that my Father could never become. I desire to be known, like my Mother, as a nightmarish Monster. I was created not because I was the product of an imprint need, but by Fate. I was supposed to be alive at this time, I was supposed to walk along the path chosen for me. I will be known. I will be feared. All will forget that I came from the loins of a lowly wolf. I have my Mother’s strength, I have my Mother’s bloodlust. I will be what she was, and oh so much more, now that I have Demons blood within me. Many forget that my Father came from Hell itself, many overlook that fact, and that is okay. Because not everyone is smart, not smart like me. I will become something important, one day, I will serve my pack as I must, I will be the perfect Demon, and no one will stop me.

I remain standing on all fours. I may be small, but I continue to stand in a strong and determined position. Yes, he is older than me. Yes, he is bigger than me. Yet I am still determined. Demons do not back down, and neither shall I. My intense darkened violet eyes, specked with sharp icy blues remained locked to his own. Once more, my small, but cold voice trickles out coolly, evidence that I shall be a calm and cold creature when I get older.

“My name is Raven…what do you want to become?”
Corvus est nomen meum…quid vis fieri?”