A History Without Hope

Time ebbs with the setting sun, wanes with the changing of the moon. It fades, with each breath, each pulsing beat of One's heart.But Lucian was lost to Father Time. Oblivious though she was to His presense, his touch still lingered painfully upon her emaciated frame. Caged ribs glided with sinful ease beneath her silver brindle bodice. Hide that had once been an intricate patterning of perlino, ash and obsidian swirls was now mangled with earthen debris, and tinted in shades of dirt, blood and twigs. Vertibrae protruded mercilessly to ridge it's way down her dorsaled spine and connected to terribly gaunt haunches. Sleek cochlea hung low, stereols drooping grimly and paying no heed to the words of comfort Mother Nature tried to sing to her. Pads, worn and weary, treaded aimlessly, crimson stains etching into the prints following their wake. Scartissue and old wounds riddled her flanks like a jigsaw puzzle, reminders of the life she'd fled from. She was nearly a carcass now, fighting the battle of survival against nature constantly, untile she was deprived of all other thoughts. The life of a nomad was a fight most could not win, She'd traveled days without nourishment or sustenance. easing that pain only by feasting on shrews, voles, and anything she could scavange, but that was only for the first two years of her solitude. Even now her stomache twisted in knots sending excruciating stabs of pain to wrack her diaphram, but this was a different hunger. One for which there was no solace. Upon her second yearas a rogue she encountered a fellow vagabond. He killed her, rebirthed her, Sired her. She was an Undead, a vampire. And has been so for many years...so many she's lost track. Time means notihng to her. Only the need to feed, to quench her neverending thirst. Her bloodlust. Remembering the world through the eyes of a pup never eased her pain nor gave her a semblance of hope. images flashed of those who had dedicated their lives to running out of hers. Of those who'd neglected and taken her for granted. Thought her a foolish flicka immune to their taunts. But her dreams -- or nightmares rather-- were not so empty. Flashes of her half brothers, her step-father, nipping at her, ravishing her. How she'd spent her days hiding in the forest, her heart racing with fear until they came. And they always came, no matter wher she went. She had bit back her anger for many years, no one could feel those feelings as she did. To be abused, mistreated, molested. Swallowed by pain in her young heart, she fell inside herself and slowly fell apart. She fled into Night's welcoming embrace, into lands unknown. Her mind swam through the ashes of dead memories. Cerulean zephyrs returned to the present, Iris' burning with a hunger deep inside her. She could stop the pain if she Willed it all the way. Insomnia plagued her for fear of reminescing broken dreams. If She never slept, her heart would never die. But like her brothers and step-father, That feind, Sand Man, always found her, took her into his intimate embrace. And each time she awoke with less and less compassion inside. Grew more and more hollow. More and more like the Night Creature she was. The Monster she was. Archaic orbs of glacial brilliance gazed lifelessly over the land of Cold Creek. The mists no longer held their mystique, The spruce no longer beckoned to her with a welcoming aura. Though the sun shined warm upon her back, It would never again rise in her heart. Passion was a mere rumor, Happiness a fairytale, and Love was nothing but a dream bittersweet. And Then, I met Wolfbane. A creature who did not reject me, who saw me as beautiful and understood my yearnings. he became my friend, became My lover. He even introduced me into a pack within which he and I now both reside.