[althea]

It was no wonder that Althea constantly wondered where her life took a wrong turn. Was it when she was still a pup and trying to hide her sickness, falling horribly ill and losing her voice in consequence? Was it when she had spat in the face of those who had raised her and turned for the hills, throwing herself into the company of someone her family had deemed less than suitable? Or when she had left said company for dead, caring only for her survival? Perhaps, when she fell for Muirenn's tricks and honey words, leaving her heart vulnerable and perfect to break? Or joining Alteron, associating herself with individuals who looked at her as if she were prey? Really, she had a knack for making poor decisions; it was a talent.

She could still recall her childhood before everything went to shit. When other could hear her voice and taunt her siblings, bragging to them about her accomplishments. She had always been proficient at hunting, after all, and that was one of the talents their pack had valued most. She had always been vying for her father's approval, desperate for paternal validation and compliments for her work. They were rare, cold things, but she had gloated about them endlessly. Her father... She had hidden her sickness in desperation, determined to keep such simple weaknesses hidden.

She regretted it, though. She wished she had overcome her pride and fears of disappointment and simply sought out assistance. But, no, she had kept quiet. She had passed it off as allergies, claiming it would be gone within a few days. But, rather, her voice was. And it didn't come back.

And then... The disappointment and disgust, all the pitying looks and distasteful grimaces. She despised them to her core, had snarled at any who had given them to her or had brushed her off during a hunt. Was she not one of their best? A simple lack of voice would not keep her from being there to play her part in the killing of a bison. But still, even after she had played off their pity and done her best to reassert her place, they had treated her like a dead weight. Her temper had snapped when she was told she wouldn't go on hunts anymore. Usefulness was always so treasured in their pack. To tell her that she had none, that she would best be a mother, was an insult to one of the highest degrees.

So she left. She was barely even a year old, fresh out of adolescence with an explosive temper that rivaled that of a volcano. But, in their homelands, it was survive or die. She could hunt, yes, but she could barely defend herself. She hadn't been of age to learn how to defend herself and she knew she couldn't fight with sharp teeth alone. She needed a partner, someone who would defend while she hunted. And she had found one. But their life together, harsh but uneventful and bent on survival, was not long-lived. The packs that roamed the prairies and preyed on bison and deer were cruel and merciless. Stealing the small amounts of food was a crime punishable with death. It was only a matter of time before they were cornered and, while their attackers were occupied with her companion, she had fled. Like a coward. She was a coward.

But she was a survivor. She always had been one. And while she regretted her betrayal because she left behind one of her few friends, she didn't wholly regret it. It was his life or both of theirs. She was hellbent on living. She wouldn't die anytime soon if she could help it.

Sitting alone amidst some of the few plains, some of the few pieces of Alteron's territory that she felt comfortable in, she contemplated her life. She was still young, she wasn't even halfway through her life. She had left behind so many people she had once--or even still--treasured. But it was for survival. She was a survivor if nothing else; a prideful one, yes, but a survivor. While she may regret some of the decisions she's made--leaving behind people who trusted her, betraying them--she would stand by them.

@Marvelous Matt