The end of winter had come so slowly that I had feared I wouldn't make it. Indeed I looked as if I had died and arisen once more from the soggy soil. My body had thinned well past the point of health, perhaps past malnourished. When I looked down at my legs all I saw were bones with a thin wrapping of skin and fur that seemed a bit too clumpy and oily. My hunger pains had become so remote that I often didn't feel them until I caught sight of a hare or vole. This is what I was reduced to; this is what I had to endure if I continued like I did.

I hated myself for this wastrel that soon in place of my reflection.

The moment animals have begun to flock back into Molodian was the moment that I began my days with nonstop momentum. I scavenged whatever I could find - it seemed now that the prey had come back the predators weren't as gluttonous, often leaving behind carcasses with plenty of meat left. It would take time before I gained enough energy and weight to properly hunt once more, even though I was never that great at it. I had always had a male to tend to my needs, always given myself freely in exchange for comfort and protection. It was Carnifex's fault I was this way. With his death something had crumbled inside of me; maybe a piece of me ached for death too.

Only Myrria kept me sane. Only Myrria kept me alive. And she had begun to wander, begun to grow and blossom and disappear, and I fretted. I loved her because she looked like him and I hated her because I knew, in the end, she would leave me too. I had crawled back to my makeshift den in the caverns (I despised the stone walls, so groping and crowding and cold) to nap this afternoon after having successfully scavenged from a fallen deer. My body was still sickly thin but there was life to my pink eyes once more and hope.

It is as I am waking from my nap that a shadow appears - well, a shadow darker than the shadows of the Grotto. I am embarrassed to say that I am slow, still clumsy from lack of, well, everything, as I unwind my body and whip to a stand. Perhaps I stumble to the side but will he see in the dark? My lips peel back and a low, almost pitiful growl, erupts moments before he speaks. His tone is gentlemanly and it eases the fear that batters against my rib cage so furiously. "This is my home, what are you doing here?" My words come out in a harsh tone but I am proud to say they don't tremble. They are full of pride and haughtiness, a definite step that I am improving. I side step closer to the darker walls because, quite suddenly, I remember that I am much smaller than most and that no doubt this male will be quicker than me in my condition.