malleah / five \ female / stolen by none

For so long she had been without her family. They seemed a distant memory in her mind; mother, father, brothers... they were ashes in her mind and from those ashes had sprung an existence of eeking out whatever she could in this life. She had wandered far away from the encompassing marshes when they had all disappeared one by one. In the beginning she had no goals for she had not much hope of being a warrior with her slight build. Frail - she had heard the word whispered about her before. Frail, a runt, a weakling, and yet she had grown hard and callous at such words with her red-pink eyes glowing with an inner inferno. Perhaps she was weak of the body. Certainly she would never be able to go head on with another wolf in a battle of brawn but Malleah was clever.

Life was always easier when one had another to lean upon and so she had wandered in the lands beyond and found her a male to attach herself to. He was eager to please her always and she simpered and smiled even while she hated him for his placid attitude. Yet he was built tall and broad. He was the kind of male that many would avoid and as such she was the leech that attached herself to him, blinking in a false owl-eyed sweetness when he did something she knew he thought impressive. It kept her life easy to say the least, although her sanity was beginning to edge and fray.

At the dawn of winter she had felt a sudden need to go. To leave behind the small world she had created around herself and while the male slumbered in his obnoxiously loud manner she silently climbed to her paws and set a path southeast. It would, she knew, lead her back to Molodian. With each passing day she drew closer to her homeland, pausing along the way with weary feet to seduce a wayward traveler into trapping her a meal. It was quite easy to be coy and the rewards of it were plentiful. Not once did she have to chase down her own meal and all she suffered for it was the pressure of a body cuddled against hers at night or the salacious hints of a lone male. Nothing that she worried overmuch with - she was no virginal female with wide-eyed innocence. She could handle herself in such situations with tact.

The first familiar scents of Molodian set her pace hard until her slender legs ached with the way she stretched them to their breaking point and her tiny paws curled against the ground in protest of her abuse. Malleah ignored the discomfort, ears pinned forward and red-speckled eyes consuming everything in sight. It was just the same as everywhere else and so vastly different. For hours she travels until the sun hangs low in the western sky and the day begins to grow noticeably cooler once more. Snow twinkles numbly in the pale light and fights her at every turn and her muscles quiver in exhaustion as her belly coos in hunger.

Iromar's scent is not as strong as it is in the high heat of summer yet the faint smell makes her nose twitch and she comes to a complete stand still beneath a twisted tree, aged and decaying. She tries so hard to remember them and yet their images blur and fade and she aches. Aches inside of her to be so alone. It consumes her in a fury then and her ears flip back against her skull as she lifts her muzzle and lets out a mournful cry of one who is lost, one who is alone, one who is tortured.