What am I? What lineage courses through the silt within my veins?
I stand against the pale night...fur dancing in the harsh wind...looking down upon the isolated vale I call my own...
Pines...snags...tattered fog...lakes...somewhere down there, my den...my land of exile. Nothing but the wind moves in this haunting place. She alone has been my constant companion. Most days, even the light refuses to shine upon my home.
My body is lean, my heart weary and ragged...my soul has come to resemble too closely this tiny niche--feral, untouchable, wild, isolated and isolating...but why?
I tip my head upwards to the heavens and beg an answer from the cold and unforgiving stars above...but they are as silent now as they have been since the dawn of time. So I release my anguish, rage, confusion, frustration, pain, sorrow out into the atmosphere. No one will answer...nothing ever has. Except my own heart.
I stand, a wolf...with the Sanguine thirst. I hunger...I thirst...I am a curse to the Forsaken Children. My time comes in the waning crescent...my thirst comes with the shifting of the seasons. Oh, what am I? What has been created?
This path is lonely...but what Shifter is never alone? We, those unafraid to die. We, this who have never been touched by the hand of love or kindness. We, those guardians whose soul purpose is to fight and defend. Who know no fear.
Oh my loving angel of darkness and night. Your thirst is my own...though you carry the true Sanguinarian's sensitivity...I carry the true Lycan's lust. What a pair we make...we the inopportuned...we the forsaken of the Forsaken.
