Life had never been easy for Cinder, but both her and her sister had been taken care of in the seaside pack. Sciathan, their half brother, had always been there as well even when their mother took off and left without them and Cinder wasn't even sure who their real father was. It was not an ideal situation for a child and it left her rather embittered at the whole parent concept. Cinder grew to be independent in thought for the only family that mattered to her was her sister and her half brother. If Snowshoe ever come back she would be met with severe resistance from her daughter, a fury at her abandonment, and she had been stung when Tesseract had fallen from power.

Even more so when Myra and Sciathan had taken off and she had come from scouring the woods, as she was wont to do, to find that the world had changed in a matter of a few short hours. She had been enraged by the change, tail swishing back and forth in irritation as she had watched the world turn into ordered chaos. Wolves leaving in an exodus and wolves entering as if they had been there all along. As if they were one with the sea when they had not spent a day breathing the salty air, had not eaten the contents fresh from the belly of the ocean.

It amounted to nothing, her fury. What could she do? She wasn't even two yet and not quite her full potential. Her body was filled with anger and disgust at the world and a hurt that seemed every present in her steel blue eyes. Scaithan returned for her though and she had found a sickening sense of relief at his arrival, eagerly moving to his side and touching his face with her maw to assure herself that he was really there. Spirane, he said, and so they had went. Far away from the seaside she had called home. Each step drove a painful nail in her heart and her head swiveled constantly, ears flattening and canines flashing at even the most innocuous of sounds.

Finally the peaks loomed high above them and she looked, up, up, up with a heady sense of smallness. She hated it. She hated these mountains - she wanted the sea, the sea where she could see for many many miles. It felt like a trap here and her heart flared to life in bursts of speed as she followed her brother into Spirane. "It is so different," she states to him, and even though her tone is not outright dislike he would probably catch on to her hidden fears and her homesickness. "Where is Myra?" Now she demands this of him, ears pricking and then folding back down as a doe darts away from a bush that had shielded her.