I am not quite sure what I am. I am still developing well…me. I know I don’t want to be weak. I do not want to be seen as my Father. Mother instructed that I not be weak, or jumpy, and pathetic. Mother did not want me to like Father and Father…well he just wanted me to be whatever I wanted. Which I must admit was kind of nice, but I didn’t feel balanced. I have always felt like I’ve been missing something. I think I have my Mother’s independence, but I think I have my need to serve my pack any way I can from my Father. I guess that was a good thing right? I mean I have traveled to other packs and I have witnessed their members being supportive one another, working together, and interacting with everyone. My pack is very quiet. Everyone takes care of themselves before they have any consideration for others. Even when Mother left me on my own I had to apply her training every day. I had to hunt for myself, take care of myself, and keep myself out of danger. I am still trying to do that, but I’m starting to take on a bigger role within my pack. I want us to be connected, I want us to take care of one another, and I think I can…maybe. As I steal a glance at the other wolves my stomach growls in earnest and my right fluffy ear twitches when I hear his own stomach. Yet that growl in his stomach seems to turn more into a vocal growl. His response causes me to cringe slightly as I fold my red-trimmed ears backwards in an apologetic manner.
“I am sorry for calling you an Angel…your coat. Other wolves mistake me for being a Demon.”
I should have known better. I should have assumed he was an Angel. His white snowy coat looked pristine to me. In fact his coat seems to shine a bit brighter than most wolves pelt. My stunning violet eyes notice how he stiffens, how he clenches his teeth. I continue to hold myself in a lowered position, ducking my head mortified that I had unsettled him so. Others always mistaken me for being a Demon. Yet my parents did not have that special blood. Yet before I came here I had spoken with Andras. He offered me to be his own child, adopted, but at least I would be considered of his own. It was shocking that he would offer such a thing. Part of me felt like it was a dream, a dream that I had been waiting for my entire life. To be seen. To be accepted. This I have always wanted. I don’t know if he did it out of love or respect, but he claimed I was a Demon now….and it felt good to belong. I am not sure how I’m supposed to tell others these things. I mean do I say I am his daughter do I say he adopted me? Unsure with what to say or how to handle this I grow quiet for a moment before I speak, speaking gently…testing my words, tasting the sweet taste of admitting I am something I never thought I could be.
“Yes, I am from Iromar, and Andras does have daughters. I am not his blood, but….he proclaimed I was his daughter now.”
I turn my head towards him again. There is a tinge of pride that could be caught in my hoarse soft voice. It feels overwhelming to admit such a thing. But I like it. Yet in a way I feel slightly guilty. Calling Andras my Father is still…new. Though I cannot help but feel sad for my blood Father. Oh what he would give to hear me admit he was mine. Perhaps, just this once I will not hide that. Just this once I will admit it. He is not of Iromar and I am not sure if he would be aware of my Father or not, but maybe it was safe to admit it to him. At least he wouldn’t treat me badly like the rest of my pack would. I do not mind his company though, I rather feel comfortable for the first time in a long time. My stomach aches for a taste of the flesh, but suddenly I am feeling…hot. Gently I speak to him once more a bit more…timid.
“My Father…he was the Servitor, Chael, and my Mother…well…I never knew her name. Actually my parents…I didn’t really know either of them…they left me.”