The preservation of the martyr in me-Psychosocial

Ashanti was calm and relaxed, until she heard a shriek. The shrieks brought up memories that she didn't want, memories of battle. She turned to see who it was, a snarl on her muzzle and her hackles raised. Her back was bristling along the spine, and she found out who was trying to play a stupid trick on her. She narrowed her eyes in anger. She had come to Tortuga and the lands that she was in, to get away from the memories that followed her everywhere. he white wolf saw a few things that she took a note of. The female had some cuts, or something like that, on her muzzle. She was tawny and she seemed like some ditzy school girl picking on a nerd.


"What the hell?" She said with rage in her voice. She rarely ever got made, but when she did, she was pissed and she did things without thinking. She waited to see if the female would answer her. If she didn't get the hell out of dodge, than Ashanti would attack. Asha didn't want to fight, but as had been evident, she was pissed. She needed to calm down. Too bad I can't find any lavender, or else I might not have hackles raised at this girl. Her subconscious told itself.