reflection

Pestilence hung precariously from the side of mount volkan, her legs weak and weary but still she held on. Her battle claws were the only thing that had saved her from certain death, they'd caught upon the cliff Toxicity pushed her from and it was because of them that she'd been able to carefully lower herself down onto the nearby outcropping. Her legs were shaking as they touched upon the rock and her body had gone cold. She could fight past the shock of the loss and her injuries, if only she could make it home she'd be okay.

It took quite some time to make it down the mountain and on her way back towards Fireside's territory. The walk would be long - longer still with her reopened wounds - and would give her plenty of time to think. The full moon had long since fallen in the sky and in it's place the rising sun was peaking through. It was Pestilence's birthday, and what a year had it been. She couldn't remember what season it was when the very volcano she stood upon had erupted and stolen away her father from her. She had been young, innocent, naive, and the knowledge of her father's mortality had easily shaken the structure of her newly budding religion. Abraxas was a lie, something weaker wolves told themselves to feel better about their weak-ass selves. Pestilence would not fall for it nor entertain the misinformation ever again. She'd driven away her uncle when she snapped, begging him to let go of his own spirituality and explaining how his companion's resurrected spirit was just as false as her father as a God. He'd left her behind and she'd not seen him again since. It was the loss that had hurt most of all, Pestilence considered as she walked. She'd loved Hari so much.

Joining Fireside had been a turning point for her, not only to be able to live with Alarr - one of the few wolves she'd ever grown close to - but to escape her Abraxas heritage as well. Tyrian had seen promise in her and had promoted her, she'd made unlikely friends in Sparrow. She even enjoyed Jupiter and his ridiculousness. It felt more like home to her then Ashen ever had, and her birthplace had lost her last shred of respect when her mother admitted that she had ulterior motives in allowing Pestilence to leave. Take over Fireside? Never. Pestilence was loyal to Tyrian now, more loyal than she'd ever been to Abraxas or her parents or anyone else. Venom could keep her empire of dirt, and Pesto would help to grow Fireside into a real pack. An accomplished pack who did more then simply fuck their brothers and spread their dirty name in the sake of expansion. In all honesty, Pestilence wasn't exactly judgemental of her mother's actions - after all, the babies were twice the Klein she was - but it felt good to have more reasons to hate her, even if they weren't entirely true.

She stepped through the territories towards home and with every new step felt even more sluggish. She had to keep thinking, planning, plotting, otherwise she knew she'd break before she made it home. To Alarr the healer who would see to her wounds - and probably kick her ass for reopening his stitches once more - and to her best friend. With her coming of age the feelings for her friend had morphed somehow, and she felt closer to him then she ever had before. Maybe she'd acted a bit silly around him complimenting his eyes, but sometimes she wondered if he had the same silly inward thoughts as she did. He made her feel good, even when they didn't spend much time talking or hanging out anymore.

The problem of Ashen was something she was preparing to tackle, and as soon as she made it home she was going to go right up to Tyrian and explained what had happened on that mountain. They'd tried to murder her, two members of Ashen. Pesto was a newly minted raider, and she was casting her vote towards her ex-family as the first target. She knew their resources, their weaknesses. She could give Tyrian valuable information on them, convince him to choose them as the target, and use that fight to settle the score once and for all. She wouldn't let Toxicity beat her ever again. She'd be strong like the volcano, just as she promised so long ago. Even if that meant she had to betray those of her blood to do it. Pestilence would never call herself a Klein again. She was officially an adult today, and had had enough drama for a lifetime. Her time as an Abraxas was over, and the next time her family saw her it would be as a stranger.

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 808 words.