The makeup of Salvia was one of both heredity and community. She was naturally talented; she could hunt extremely well, she spoke several languages, and she was gifted with an unusual pelt that accented her beauty. However, she was given an insatiable will to dominate—it was displayed in her everyday interactions, in the way she behaved around strangers. Salsola had warped her into a beast that carried within her a tiger of wrath. Though she had not informed anyone of what she had done, it did not surprise her to recall attacking (even, attempting to kill) her sister. It was a shame the girl still lived.
A body now showing the hard-work of days of hunting and fighting training was poised in a combat stance. Her hands were hooked into talons, claws extended. She shadow-boxed, striking at the air. Blonde-brown hair broke free of the leather thong holding it, but she did not slow. To get through her practice was far more important. After several more faux strikes, she composed herself with a languid stretch. Arms high, her body put on display the curves of a girl not yet a woman. She would gain her mother’s curves though not her build, for Salvia was taller and while heavy, her weight came from compact muscle. There was no doubt she was a force to be reckoned with.
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