Tarr'a're lived in the fierce, untamed wilderness of Scotland. The weather tends to be temperate, but can change in an instant. The weather of Scotland almost entirely depends on the tides and on the winds. If the tides and the winds are in balance, then the weather will be at peace. Often enough, however, they are not balanced and a never-ending war seems to wage between land and earth. Wandering through the ruins, you can see the emaciated and dead bodies, preserved by ancient bogs and volcanic ash, reminders of a war never won. Animals roam the more peaceable parts of the wilderness, but many of them are monsters lying in wait to see one fall, and then scavenging what is left. Tarra lived alone, creating her own ideas and adapting to the wilderness by studying the animals around her. If she saw a Siberian Tiger, she would note that its stripes helped it blend in, and therefore she would paint stripes on herself as well, and she would know they would help her survive. If she saw an animal's eye's gleam in the dark with unknown sight, she would spend nights training herself to see that way aswell. She knew that if these animals could survive here, then she could do more than survive. The Scottish wilderness was harsh, harsher than our life here, but it was like a mother to her, nurturing her while scolding her for something she does wrong, scolding her while praising her when she does good.
The part of Scotland that Tarra lived in was a rather unwelcoming place. The place was rather boggy, with sulfur at the bottom of the murky watery-mud that made the whole place reek. Despite the stench, Tarra stayed there because it hid her own scent from predators. A stunted tree would grow every ten feet or so, but it wouldn't stay long. Only skeletons and weeping willows that seemed to mourn for their dead accomplices remained, despite for a few weeds. Bugs were abundant in this place, mostly large flies that pollinated the large, purple flowers that grew around the edges of the wet area. Tarra would pick these. They had a particularly alluring smell but if you ate them they would make you very sick. Beauty hides poison in this wilderness. The other part of where she lived, mainly the part where she scavenged, was thick pine forest, where the trees grew twenty feet tall and were ideal for climbing. Tarra found most of her food here. She especially loved the blueberries that grew on giant, black-leaved bushes. Scotland took care of her, and she didn't destroy it in return.
Scotland was Tarra's mum, guiding her fate to some unknown extent of what she did not know. Capture was inevitable, death was even more so. When she lived there, she knew that one day she would be gone, and all that would be left of her are things that never happened. She wanted to make a mark. Scotland pushed her subtly, whispering things to her she did not understand, as it does for anyone who travels there looking for destiny. One could go mad, listening to the wailing of lost spirits, the spirits who are ghosts of people who were never found in their walk of life, people who never found their fate. As an ancient Scottish royal once said, 'Everyone has a fate of their own. Some never find it. Some do. Others are guided.' Scotland gave Tarra a free ride to what she knew she was going to be, and what she knew she always would be. She knew that one day, when she was dead and gone, no one would no her, despite how much she fought. But at one point you have to ask. You have to ask your fate, ask your land, your freedom, your life... and Tarra answered that question with confidence that knew no bounds.
What are you fighting for?
'I am fighting to find home.'