Holy crap. O.o; I’m guessing you had a lot of time on your hands or a rant mood. Lol word count 920

Gah, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being ignored. I’m sick of my dreams coming back to haunt me. The only time they don’t bother me are when I am near Ty or Rendall, and Rendall is gone. Anya was sick of her history haunting her, tormenting what few memories she had left. She was desperate for a way to drown her painful memories. She was sick of strangers popping into her life. The newest stranger, Artemis, reminded her strongly of her lost brother, Malaki.

Yet again, Anya found herself flashing back to that horrible day. She and Malaki had been playing in the grass near their home, a harmless act of childhood, a childhood that was about to be destroyed. She could remember clearly, the aspens rustling in the coming autumn breeze. The yellow leaves were beginning to fall around them, and Malaki had come up with amazing idea of trying to catch the leaves with their tails. Not as easy as you might think. In the end the two almost pups could be found biting at each other playfully. A female watched them from the shadows, watching with care her mate, Anya’s brother. Anya knew nothing of the mating at the time, and would not find out until long after her violent death.

Anya could recall not what caused the riot between her father and Malaki. All she remembered was watching her father rip out Malaki’s throat and flinging the twitching body of his only living son in front of the pack as an example to all. Something broke inside of Anya, watching her brother’s sightless eyes close, and she heaved up the rabbit she had caught before. She remembered how proud it had made her brother, that she had caught a rabbit all by herself. With a snarl, she had leapt upon her father, not seeing anything clearly. A hard fight later, she was being tattooed as a traitor while the alpha males fought over the leadership of the pack. The bodies had been left to the vultures.

Anya raised her head, rain streaming over her muzzle in the semblance of tears. But tears had been long forgotten to Anya. Tears showed weakness, and by God and all other deities, she would never show weakness ever again. Not even to herself. Showing weakness meant that you could not control your environment. A very human way of thinking, yes, but a fairly valid one nonetheless. When you showed weakness, you were more likely to be killed by fear. Anya had had enough of fear in her life.

Anya found herself approaching the border of the Valley in her quest for who knew what. She raised her dark head, slate eyes surveying the coming storm. Lightning flashed across the sky in a manner that commanded it be recognized. She grinned to herself as a saying from Malaki ran through her head. When she was a pup, she had been terrified to the bone about lightning and thunder. Malaki had always told her, when he found her cowering under the roots of her favorite tree, that all thunder was was the angels rearranging furniture. She would laugh, never expecting that Malaki would soon be one of those angels watching over her.

”Well, hello.” Anya had come across a female luperci, wearing a soaked grey wool sweater that looked absolutely stunning on her. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips, and Anya noted dimly that the female smelled like alcohol mixed with vanilla. Odd combination. She understood the alcohol. It was one of the few things besides company that numbed the pain of memories, at least for a little while. But Anya honestly had no idea where the vanilla had come from. She also noted that the female had strangely colored eyes, though Anya realized that she would have to be closer to the woman to distinctly identify what color her eyes were. Scars barely marred the woman’s muzzle, and Anya felt a rush of fierce jealousy. Oh, to be confident of how she looked. That would be a nice skill to have at times.

Anya trotted forward to greet the woman. She looked familiar, but then again, everyone was starting to look familiar to Anya, be they familiar or not. She was beginning to distrust her own judgments. They always seemed to lead her in the wrong direction, unless they were spot on. When that occurred, the least that could be said was that Anya would be found wandering around later, extremely confused.

Anya felt extremely self conscious walking up to the well dressed female, for more than one reason. For one, the female had striking posture, and was dressed so amazingly that Anya felt less than worthy compared to this beauty sitting in the snow. Anya found herself willing her fur to cooperate with her, and checked herself for any ticks or matted fur that would bring on the presumption she cared not at all for her appearance. She cared a great deal for her appearance, but found herself alone more than anything, thus not lending an opportunity to actually be motivated to look her best. Also, Anya was not very well accustomed to greeting strangers at the border of the pack, though she wandered the borders almost every day in search of medicinal herbs. To come across the female now sitting in front of her was a surprising event, and she didn’t know quite what to make of it.