Storm

30 Moons ― Female ― Heterosexual
Rogue ― No rank

→ appearance ←

Storm's fur is not unusual, really, but it was among the Kingdom she was born to- and it caused trouble. Where Riverbloom wolves were earthy colors of browns, reds, and blacks, her coat is startlingly pale, and where their pelts are thin, hers is quite thick. From her belly to her toes, it's mostly white with a streak of silver here and there. From her back to her belly, and along her spine from head to tail, it's a mottled mix of light silver and darker gray. Two near-black lines start from her shoulder blades and streak back toward her tail, showing beneath the mottling but plainly visible. The backs of her ears are black, the inside a mix of dark gray with patches of white. Her face is nearly white, with just a hint of gray around her eyes and a blaze of black down her nose.

→ personality ←

At her core, Storm is incredibly stubborn; it's the trait she was most well known for in the pack she was born to, and it hasn't changed in her moons as a rogue. Once she gets set on something, she'll see it through until she achieves it or ordered to give it up. Or until she's simply too tired to keep at it; at either outcome, she'll lay the blame for her failure at the feet of the creature who foiled her attempt. It wasn't her fault, it was theirs. But she'll try again later, you can count on that.

The hardest part about being a rogue, really, is being alone. She liked the closeness of a pack, and sometimes regrets leaving Riverbloom for the companionship she'd had, but she can't face crawling back- and she's not even sure if they'd take her back. She does know her loyalty to the pack would be constantly questioned, since she had left of her own accord. More than anything, going back would be admitting that she was wrong- that she couldn't make it on her own, and she can't face that. She settles instead for the brief companionship of other rogues, short as these encounters may be.

Very outspoken, Storm makes little effort to hide her views on the world, and she won't back down and accept someone else's if it varies from her own- but she's all too happy to discuss them with someone who agrees with her. Quick-minded and witty, she can and probably has rubbed some the wrong way with what's she's blurted. Those are her thoughts, and she won't apologize for them, regardless of how much the other wolf may be upset by her words.

→ history ←

Pup
Born Lightfur, the little she-pup had no way of knowing the trouble her pelt would cause between her parents. Her father, Stag, was of the firm opinion that she couldn't possibly be his, because of her fur, accusing Alder of being unfaithful and disloyal to the Pack by courting an Astralridge male. She denied it, annoyed by the accusations, and maintained that she had never done such a thing with a wolf of a pack that were Riverbloom's enemies.

However, she was proud of the snowy white and silvered pelt of her daughter and gave her a name that references the pup's coat. Lightfur was proud of it too, especially in her youth when it made her stand out among the red and brown pelts of her brother and other pups. While not exactly vain about it, she was still well known for never letting it stay dirty for long.

She didn't quite understand why Stag never wanted to do anything with her, even though he seemed happy to spend time with Rowan, and Alder's explanations only confused her more, since they were usually barely veiled insults about the male's intelligence. That was something only time would allow her to understand.

Greenhorn
By the time she was old enough to become a greenhorn, Lightfur was ready. She'd grown tired of sitting within the sanctuary and watching the older wolves leave to hunt or patrol or whatever else they did; she wanted to be part of it. And she sprang headfirst into it when her ceremony finally took place; her mentor was an older male named Mottled, for his patchwork of fur colors. Rowan was with her, but only for a single moon before he was called to become that Kingdom's next Corvidae, and Lightfur continued her guardian training without him.

It was fun- challenging and often exhausting, but still fun. For all her wealth of fur, she had the typical lean body of a Riverbloom wolf, and the long legs that made her a swift runner. Her first kill was of a rabbit that she ran down; she was often left to watch and learn as the guardians took larger, more dangerous prey. Teamwork, Mottled told her, was incredibly important during the hunt; you couldn't doubt a packmate for a moment or the hunt would fail.

As was normal, Mottled tried her first on old or sick creatures, those visibly ill that would be less of a risk, guiding her the entire time; gradually, as she learned to read the prey's body language and grew more confident in trusting her own instincts, she took a more active part in the hunts- never at the head of the patrol, but comfortable in running with them and doing her part to take it down.

She learned to fight, too. Specific moves were taught on the different types of dangers; wolves of the other Kingdoms, or the more serious threat of bears or cougars. With other wolves she learned moves that she could use in one-on-one fights; with bears and cougars fights were best done as a team.

Quick to learn and eager, it was a breeze for her and at twelve moons, she was given her test that would raise her to guardian; she passed and spent the night on guard, watching over the sanctuary while the rest of the pack slept.

Guardian
There were no more official lessons, but there was almost always more to learn, even as a guardian. Still, she was an equal to the rest and she was always happy to be called out to hunt- a duty she far preferred to fighting, though she did her part in that as well if necessary. Barring the constant irritated comments from her father, she was content with her life, spending most of her time between friends, her mother, or Heron, when he wasn't busy with his own lessons.

Lightfur wasn't really sure why, after seasons of it, that one comment from Stag bit so sharply. All she knew was that it'd always been that way, and suddenly she realized it always would be. He wasn't going to change his mind about her, and the thought of spending the rest of her life dealing with it, and the short glances she got from others every time her father voiced his doubts, was suddenly something she couldn't face.

She did try to talk Alder out of coming with her, but her mother refused to stay behind- and together the two left the Riverbloom territory behind for good.

Rogue
Hunting was almost immediately more difficult; they were often unable to make large kills with just the two of them, so sights were set on smaller prey, and they went from chasing prey down to ambushing; despite how hungry they might be, Alder refused to scavenge, struggling to hold on to some of her dignity- but Lightfur was less picky.

No longer bound by scentlines, the two went where they wanted, often traveling some distance from the Kingdoms' territories, but always circling back in the end. One such return trip resulted in them making a rare kill of an ill deer, and they were in the process of filling their bellies when they were challenged by a cougar. Lightfur and Alder attempted to fight- to defend it- but the cat was too much for the two of them. Alder met her end at the fangs of the cougar, her neck broken in a swift, lethal bite, and Lightfur nearly met the same fate.

She managed to get far enough away that the cougar, more interested in the kill, stopped chasing her, and managed to continue on. The pain of the scratches increased instead of fading, even though she stopped often to try to soothe them with gentle licks, and she hardly noticed the state of her fur- too wrapped up in the combined grief over her mother's death and her own aching wounds.

She ended up on the Riverbloom border, and then Heron was standing above her, shock in his eyes, momentarily stunned before turning away and hunting down herbs to use to treat her- and using the prayers he'd learned.

It took a few days for Lightfur to recover, and in that time she told Heron about Alder's death. And that she wasn't going to return to Riverbloom- no matter how hard it might be to make it on her own. She wouldn't return to deal with Stag's comments; and she couldn't deal with returning to the pack without Alder. She thanked Heron for helping her, and then told him of her change in name. Rather a snap decision on her part, but it felt right. As Storm, she could try to make a new start for herself.

It's been two moons since then, and she's still surviving, day by day- through sheer willpower, if nothing else. She knows she lives on a razor edge- she has to hunt often, to keep herself fed, and she has to be careful in case she runs across any predators; but she's making it. And she's quite proud of that.

→ extra ←

Mother: Alder (deceased) ― Father: Stag (Guardian of Riverbloom) ― Siblings: Brother: Heron (Corvidae of Riverbloom)
Notes: None