Tithe

Innocence and youth went hand in hand. Or so the world seemed to claim. Being born a bastard meant your innocence was stolen before your birth. Before the first breath of life could fill your lungs that life was tainted. Someone else had made a choice that not only impacted your life, but created it and marked it. Nothing else need be said, or done to you to earn this title at a bare minimum. If your bastard breeding had been forced a whole second layer was added to your coat. Each passing day, if you were allowed to live, you were looked at as something different. Something unwanted. Tainted Something about you was unreal, so therefore you were not true. You could be used, you were a tool or you were nothing. In some cases you were a weapon. Your birth was a fire in a forge, fuel to create revenge. Each day there was something new while equally old to build upon what had been created the day before.


Layer by layer, life had pounded his armor. Occasionally a friend had stepped up to temper the steel only to have Tithe continue to work it into a fitted mold. To protect them? Or to protect him? Either way, the young wolf had forged the plates so well the gray had taken over his black undercoat. Steel rested on his face, shoulders, and back. Only around his lips, paws, and tail did the black come forth. Even his eyes were a hard metal that blocked the world from seeing into him.

He padded over the dirt and land, for the most part keeping to whatever shadows he could find. Still new to this land, he had no reason to reveal himself, and no desire to be found. In the past year he had lost everything. Friends, family, even his goal. It had all been taken from him by one. The one who had stolen his innocence before his heart even beat to his drums. The wolf brushed up against a tree, running the rough bark along his back and sides before stretching out his spine. Gaze looked around him briefly and his already neutral spirits seemed to fall. There was nothing for him here. He was a warrior without something to fight for; a prince who was an heir to nothing; a soul with nothing to stand for. The life that he should not have been granted, the one he had been able to build, was lost. Now he stood, with nothing but hallow armor and desire for something different.