<font face=times size=1 color=#3B3B3B>THERE'S A BAD MAN IN EVERYONE</font> open

It was easy to lose yourself in the swamp, the dark russet girl had found, and it was easier still to become a creature of the murky darkness and the cypress trees and the strange splashes and creaks one might hear late at night. It had been over a year, she thought, since she had ventured outward, finding little for her in these lands yet unwilling to leave. How strange it was to go this long without talking to another soul when most of her life she had been traveling with a group that she called her family. Perhaps it was the loss finally hitting her that had driven X into the swamp, the knowing that she had nothing left for her. Even the few wolves that she had met here had followed the same path into darkness and obscurity.

But it was time to find her way out. X had honed her skills in the swamp, alone, avoiding any and all wolves who might pass through in favor of the alligators and swamp birds which had become training dummies for her exercises. She was sharper than ever with tracking and stalking and being stealthy, but her social skills had certainly taken a hit. She hadn't talked in a long time, preferring the silence more than anything else, and when she finally tried to her voice was hoarse and gravelly, unlike the silky tones that she remembered.

X slinked out of her cypress tree-root den, rubbing herself against the tree to hopefully clear some of the muck off. And she began her trek out of the heart of the swamp, avoiding any of the dangerous areas and skillfully moving over fallen trees, jumping across deep pools of murky water and skirting around thick mud that might suck her down into it's depths.

Her paws muddy and her coat stinking of swamp, X strode into the greater forest, relishing in the feeling of solid dirt beneath her paws. The next course of action was finding somewhere to wash off, and one of the rivers that fed into the swamp seemed like a safe enough bet. The tear-marked wolf plunged into the frigid water, sending a spray of droplets into the cool autumn air. It felt... good, to finally leave the swamp behind. But now she had no idea where to go or what to do, and as the water rushed over her pelt and carried away with it the year build up of swamp-scent, she realized that it was almost as if her name did not even fit her anymore.

X
five - no home - no heart - no soul

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