If Fate had decided she take a different path and grow up with a pack, most likely, she would be some sort of mid to high ranking wolf. She held that basic need to be ambitious. Yet that ambition trait of hers was covered by her need for survival. She was ambitious to stay alive. Who could blame a loner for wanting to do everything in their power to stay alive? She was built to be a swift fighter. Those long ebony stilts seemed to carry her agile, but feminine muscular frame. Running swiftly and being nimble in attacks came easy to her, because she already had the correct tools to work. It was her experience in fighting that helped her learn just how she could use her body to her advantage. She could dodge an attack, believe it or not…she does have a mauled body, but sometimes to win the fight she would have to fling herself into the dangers. With the mountain lion earlier, in order to kill the savage tawny kitty she had to throw herself into its chest, where its claws could easily rake her as she clamped down on his throat, biting hard all to make oxygen stop flowing in his body. The consequences, when throwing yourself into the danger zone, would always be great, but that was just her style. Not many wolves wanted to risk their pretty coat or their body being greatly injured. Not once did she ever care for her appearance and here she was, alive…while the ‘pretty’ looking wolves were all dead. Mother Nature does not care for how you look or how great you maintain your exterior shell…she is a ruthless bitch that will crack whatever ‘perfect’ shield you have.

As she attempted to drink the chilling icy blue waters with her new found handicap she would pause and every now and then observe the massive obsidian wolf that stuck out from the pure white snow. A tattered ear twitched as her grey trimmed tail swayed side to side in a lackadaisical manner. She was not afraid nor intimidated by him. She could actually feel his glowing ember eyes rake across her ragged carcass. She didn’t mind the gawking she received by others. Indeed with the type of healed wounds and the shape of the scars that littered her frame, it was hard to believe that someone like her could still be alive. Well, it wasn’t a surprise. She had something that no one else had, and if you couldn’t figure that out well then you might as well leave her alone, because there really was no point in having you here. When she stayed in Diveen, it did not bother her that some would sneak close to the den and get a peak of her ripped face, wanting to know if the rumors were indeed true…that the moon seemed to make the small pieces of exposed bone gleam an ethereal silver. Of course, that moment was barely seen until a flash of sharp white teeth was the only thing they saw, before they ran away. Really, she didn’t mind anyone taking in her battle wounds, as long as they respected the fact that she was not a creature that was easily approachable. Before the mountain lion ruined her race, only the three clawed scar mark that took over the right side of her face was the only recognizable attribute, but when the left side seemed much more…interesting, well it was obviously to say she looked like a unique creature. She was no sciamachy…she was oh so very real. She was a simple myth, a nightmare that parents told their children on certain nights when the moon was upright, and there was a still in the land….that was when parents from various packs warned their young ones about the terrible Monster with the glowing indigo eyes, and the nasty scar that draped her face, and the haunting hideous howl that warned everyone that she was nearby- and she was hungry.

Fate was responsible for Chael acting like an idiot, not this she-wolf. She wanted nothing to do with the male that named their attachment as an imprint. Not once in her travels had she heard something equally disturbing and absurd. As the brute made his way towards her she would lift her head growling softly as she tasted the nipping cold winds. Chael had mentioned he was in a pack that treated him like dirt, why she was stuck with someone that didn’t have a backbone she would have to ask Fate when Death came to greet her like an old friend. The low growls were barely audible as her silvery trimmed ears twitched and pointed forward, in mild interest at least. The way he moved screamed that he held power, so he must be some sort of important wolf to carry a stride like that, but his scent’s perception like he wanted to start a fight, at least, not yet. Bloodstained lips coiled into a devilish smirk as those amethyst eyes glinted with mischief, as the male claimed Chael to be his. With a cold indifferent tone, her words poured out like a sinister but delectable poison.

“I wasn’t aware that Chael had another striving for his heart…so that if you want it that badly, you can keep Chael, I’m not interested.”

Ebony dial tilted sideways in a inquisitive manner. Surely the pack wolf could take a harmless joke. However, there was an underlying truth to what she said. She wanted nothing to do with her imprint. When they first met and he explained why he was acting this way, why he was looking at her as if she were the greatest thing in the world….she felt uneasy and confused. No one had seen her like that. No one really wanted to be around her. She was used to being alone, ever since she was kicked out over te cursed mark. The gruesome minx couldn’t even attack the one thing she despised. A tiny voice in her head ordered her not to sink her teeth into her ebony and ivory pelt, and another stronger voice was telling her that she could trust him. That she had to fulfill what he wanted. Chael wanted something from her, something she wasn’t quite sure she could even give. Yet that night during their first meeting that instinctual need, something she hadn’t felt before, explained that she needed to do as he asked, to provide her imprint want he wanted, a family. A family was something she could not give let alone even start to understand. In fact, she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be involved with a pack in the first place- nothing good ever came from it. But she could not think about Chael and his desire to breed with her. Right now she had to figure out if she was going to continue standing in the blistering cold and waste precious time finding her next meal before the next wintery storm came. As she examined the male before her, she couldn’t help but wonder why she couldn’t have been attached to a male that had self-confidence and strength, not a trace of cowardice and weakness could be seen in him. Indigo eyes that held flecks of amethyst noticed how his muzzle would sway and his nostrils twitch when the wind would pick up the trace of rotted flesh that was still healing along her chest and right leg, ignoring how the bitter wind was stinging her mauled face. He seemed to be enthralled with the odor of her rotting flesh. Seeing how she had nothing else better to do then, keep herself from starving, she lifted her head to its full height rolling her shoulders back allowing the winds to pick up more of that delicious rotting aroma…that and letting those healing wounds breathe a little bit.

“So, rotting flesh is supposed to be the way to catch a male? Wow, I should kill a mountain lion more than once. So, what is a Demon doing in the Loner lands, don’t you have better things to do like go find a lost soul and convince them to join whatever hell hole you come from?”

That rigid cold tone held a very subtle bite to it. Those sapphire eyes seemed to intensify between her ebony pelt, the moon’s silvery rays lighting up that imperfect diamond shaped mark in the middle of her forehead. Sure, she was curious to know why this male that held Chael’s scent on his thick coat was out and about. Hopefully, he wasn’t doing her imprint a favor. Really- she was not interested in seeing him any time soon, and nothing would change her mind.