So I'm Left Alone

To unknown

Avestra. Right. That was her name. What else did she know? Well,.....trees, grass, dead leaves crunching under her flip flops, a branch poking her side. She didn't remeber anything, and the only reason she knew her name was,...it was scrawled on her bicep in ink. That HAD to be her name. What's the point of writing that random word on her right arm for nothing?

She stood up from her slouched, drowsy position from the fallen, rotting log. Another thing emerged, throbbing in appearance in her mind. Enodia. She almost ignored it, assumming the thought being part of her strange amnesia. She visually pictured something of an angel. Long, flowing and unusually scarlet hair. Bleach-white wings, with long, wispy thin feathers, just the touch of gold at the tips. she almost ignored the thought, before she found a knife in her pocket, making a red stain on her jeans, the blood, not hers. Another proven fact, the hunched figure behind her, snarling, staring into the depths of her soul. One word popped up, lacing her mouth into it. "Phantominian".

"Oh crap." Her mouth said for her. The pulsing yellow-Amber eyes that were staring at her were burning her own. "Hiya wolfie .." She wanted to keep going with the sentence, but the werewolf snarled back at her, cutting her off. Her bottom lip began to quiver, but she couldn't let the canine man see her cry right in front of him, her, it, whatever the thing was. She sucked it up like a.. Well not man. A warrior woman... Yeah.. That'd work. "Well, wolfie how 'bout I interest you into into a knife crafted by our local blacksmith?" She wasn't entirely sure about the blacksmith part. Heck, she had no idea exactly which century she was in, her only guess as to relating to age/years was that she was probably fifteen.

Apparently the wolf man didn't buy it, he probably didn't even believe that she had a knife, the way she looked. "Urmmmmm....." Suddenly as if he were remote controlled he snarled, and lunged at her.csje screeched, pulling out the blade from her pocket. The wolf's huge hand paws tried to gripp at her shoulder, but something happened and he grazed the sides of her neck and she fell on her back. The pain under her spread out like wind, she gasped, coughed a little. The wolf looked like this attack was too easy, and jumped, about to make a body slam on her.

The knife was ready this time. She shut her eyes tight, pulled the knife out, pointing out against her chest, a second before he made contact, the blade ripping open his chest as he fell on her. It made a roaring sound for a a moment then, suddenly cut off. She made a moaning sound under him, mainly because the creature weighed a thousand pounds, and his breath smelled like rotted unicorn. She was completely confused on how she knew how that smelled like.

Something curled over her, thick, almost suffocating mist. The violet, almost starry stuff tied itself around her body, while that the werewolf on top of her seemed to just fade... Giving the purple vapor more room. She coughed weakly, and the mist seemed to shove her eyes close. She was very confused...the emotion almost waking her all the way. Her eyes fluttered, warring against the spell as fuzzy blotted figures moved around, striding like in a pond. She lost, and the deep sleep mingled with her body.