her eyes. oh her eyes. they draw you in like moths to a flame. little honeyed pools of warmth and love. even in youth they have a kind of sweet kind age, like a fine wine. or perhaps--more appropriately--a cheap bottle of champane. only cheap champane can give you those kind of memories. the memories that last a life time. the kind that you reminise about afterwards. ones that live and breath spontinuity. that's the kind of eyes she has. the kind that show you strength. the kind of eyes that say you cant break me. those are the kind of eyes she has. our little tiger. the ones that will hide the hurt and dance with a wit that very few get to bare witness to the entirety of.

her heart drums beneath the soft fur of a small chest. everything about her is small really, except for her heart. a tender budding flower not yet completely bloomed. one must give these things time. you know it's never really been something that she minded. tiger has always managed to be a kind of oddity somehow. for some reason it was always her that happened to be the freak behind the glass... oh but she doesn't mind. her pretty sandy blonde fur matches her eyes and sometimes--when she's all alone--one might even catch her admiring it in the cold reflective surface of a pool of water. the subtle variations of russet streaks that make their way along her back, and the slight darkening around her shoulder blades. when she was younger she wanted to hide herself away. the markings that resembled tiger stripes along her legs and across the length of her back and that traced her face always made her self consious. she felt like she was being gaudy just by being born... but now tiger appreciates it. it's something that sets her apart! not like the white that dusts her cheeks or the areas around her eyes and ears. even her leith legs are not safe from the normal color ofwhite.

now although--and I do say this with some regret--our little lady's somewhat long--though soft--fur will make seeing her not yet fully developed womanly curves near non-existant she is still most definitely all woman--or... at least she will be soon enough. sooner or later someone is bound to find her beautiful. she is after all so stunning. blame it in the way she carries herself. there is after all something so attractive about confidence.

once when little tiger was incredibly young the night caught her eyes. she wondered out and away to the opening of her den. she had never spent any of her time exploring the outdoors; she had always been preoccupied with the happenings of the indoor world, so tiger had never seen the moon. not once had she ever gazed upon the bright satellite of his body as he watched over the world like the god of the night sky. she had not witnessed how his light refracted between the shadow hewn ghosts of passing clouds. never had she admired the face of the man in the moon and his unfathomable beauty. she had simply not taken the time to do such things. now, all of those thoughts struck her simultaneously and the shock of it recalibrated her emotions.


so tiger fell in love with the moon.


it was when she was older--a pup ready to leave the den--that she remembered that love. that night she wanted nothing more than to touch the moon. try as she might, the moon was too high and she could not reach his face. so then--jilted from failure, tiger wavered hesitantly against the evening breeze until her imagination helped her to the ground, where she collapsed in sorrow and wept. as much as it tried to comfort her, there was nothing it could do to stop her tears. she cried until the soil was so saturated that it simply could not absorb any more. a pool of tears collected where they fell, growing until the reflective surface made it appear as if the sky were on the ground. examining the reflection, tiger was gripped with hope as she reached out to it. There, in the middle of the puddle, was the moon.

so, tiger touched the moon.

have you ever loved something so much that you wept because of it's loss? that is how little tiger is with everything. she feels with every fiber of her heart. it is not that she is weak, or a cry baby who has no spine. what you must understand is only that she loves. she loves so completely... because she sees the beauty in everything.

one might say that little tiger has had a good life. an enjoyable life. this has not always been the case. in the begining it was true. in the begining it might have actually been perfect. her mother loved her father and her father loved her mother. it was a deep kind of love. the kind that comes from initial bonds fordged out of friendship that then melds into the sweet fufilling waters of admiration. admiration then leading to wooing. wooing leading to the union which created of tiger and her siblings. her mother and father loved their children. everything was so normal. perfect.

but as you are most certainly well aware, no perfect thing lasts forever. it was probably due time for something to happen. time is like that you know. it's a very cruel and self centered thing. it has no heart... it waits for no one. tiger and her siblings were only just a couple of months old when her mother fell ill. now tiger never talks about it anymore, but she was very close to her mother. there was a kind of unspoken bond between the two. they both knew what it felt like to be different. you can imagine what it must of felt like for little tiger to watch her as she shriveled away right there in front of her little eyes. someone who she loved so much. when her mother died tiger spent nearly an hour nestled against her still warm fur. her father didn't have the heart to pull her away...

Her siblings took better to it than she did. to her her mother was everything... but then it got worse. as if the realization that the warmth of mothers downy grey pelt would never be felt again wasn't enough her father's mind broke. it still didn't give him the right to do the things that he did... he became cruel. mentally and physically abusive to all of his children. it hurt tiger espessially. as the littlest out of the litter she took the brunt of her fathers anger... it hurt. as a result she became severely anti-social and she stoped talking completely. she suffered from repeated nightmares... as you can imagine she started to become severly depresed.

your probably wondering how she could go from that to her loving, beautiful self! well one night when she had gotten a little bit older her father became even more violent than normal. tiger was so scared... but she fought against her fear. she fought back. it terried her to do something so outside of her normal delicate, timmid nature, but she just couldn't let herself be destroyed savagely while he was inraged. she used her fangs and her claws and when it was over she ran. blindly. she ran and ran and ran until she couldn't feel her body anymore. there. that's her story.

now she's here.

t i g e r