Age: 102
Gender: Female
Antler type: Kudu Horns
Marking Types:She has the coloration of the Canadian (Or Canada) Lynx.
Region: She was born in the Northern Region, but has travelled far and is at the moment residing within the center lands.
Rank: Defender
Parents:Kindratis (Canadian Lynx colouring with deep charcoal spots and brilliant green eyes, inherited from her leopard coloured ancestors. She had American Buffaloe Horns) and Wayl (Canadian Lynx colouration with almost white patches on his nose, throat and underbelly, reddish streaks down his legs and yellow eyes. He had Kudu Horns) Her father died in a blood feud with another Isnaroh when Jahzra was still a pup. Her mother and her were not on the best of terms when Jahzra left and so although Kindratis is very likely dead, Jahzra is not absolutely certain.
Personality:Jahzra doesn't care about much. She's not one to worry over other people's feelings and never smooths things over. She is blunt, to the point of being callous, and very honest, saying exactly what she thinks. Although she is smart, able to strategize and deduce, subtle humour is often lost on her, mostly because she never assumes that others aren't telling the complete truth. She doesn't feel the need to be close to others, enjoying time to herself. She is brave and loyal but will disobey orders if she feels that it is the necessary course of action. She respects authority, but does not fear it. She knows that leaders are leaders for a reason and that they should be respected and their orders carried out, but does not believe that they are god-like or un-flawed. She does not revel in bloodshed, but it does please her to know that she is not weak or incapable and is not afraid to show others what she can do.
Story:
20
The pup lay on the bare earth, inside the den, warmed from the body heat of her mother.
Her mother. Her beautiful mother. Her huge, dappled, big-horned, soft-furred, comfort-mother.
“I never want to see you again.”
Her mother. Her crazy, lip-curled, shining teeth bared, hair raised, horrible mother.
“Get out!”
Sharp pain. Cry out.
Crazy mother. Crazy, no-father, yowling mother. Father gone. Father was here, was gone, is gone, not here. Cold shadows swallowed. Cold shadows on a moonlit night. Blood and teeth and cries of pain and shadows.
The pup ran, stumbling through the dense, clawing undergrowth, evading the tree's deadly, pointed branches. She cowered under a rotting stump, the snow sifting down through her thick fur, making her shiver. Hiding from her mother.
“Jahzra!”
Cold back against cold ground under cold log in cold night with cold stars. Wet leaves tickle, soft sounds tickle. Smells twist, new smells, cold, damp, mother smells.
Yowl.
Her mother. Her warm tongue, warm heart, warm smell mother. Beautiful mother.
53
The young wolf, leaving. Shaking off a past that was no more, trying to evade the shadows. Escaping from the memory that was still real to her mother.
“Jahzra,”
Sad smelling mother. Poor Kindratis. Poor lonely, father lost, crazy, Kindratis mother.
“Please?”
Shake head.
“No.”
“Please?”
Shake.
Growl. Kindratis lip curled like an autumn leaf. Snarling autumn leaf. Crazy cold, shadowed autumn leaf.
“No!”
Lunge.
Dodge. Burning throat, burning sight, burning thought, burning heart, burning fear, burning hate, burning hurt.
“You'
Lunge.
“Will.”
Lunge.
“Not.”
Snap
“Leave. Me!”
Rip.
Pain. Burning hot blood running pain. Fire shoulder, fire fear, fire hate, crazy shadows. Cold shadows clutching, blazing fire burning, blazing fire of glistening teeth. Teeth that were beautiful.
Run fast. Must leave the crazy shadows. Crazy mother. Shadowed Kindratis. Memory and shadows. Cold rusty shadows that burn and freeze and hate.
Leave.
60
The old-young pup. Jaded and scared, Jaded and scarred, honest and afraid, came upon a scent, so unlike her mother.
Danger.
Strange Isnaroh.
Smell the scent of other. Large, thick, warm other. Dangerous other. Must protect. Never let shadows enter. Scent blood. Warm blood. Ready, set, go!
Leap.
Turn.
Surprise, the sharp unwavering scent of surprise. No fear. No cold, burning, crazy fear.
Teeth rip, but no. No fur, teeth jar on empty danger-scented air. Why?
Ground rushing up. Feel the crash of ground on bone, ground on flesh, ground on blood, paws on top.
Large paws. Growl-voice.
“Who are you?”
Hard voice. Big voice. Big, strong, loud, male, blood voice.
Whine.
More cold tinted surprise. More danger.
“What is it?”
New voice. Softer voice, hard but softer voice.
“A pup.”
“You attacked her?”
Anger, crazy anger. Smell the hot, blood lust anger inside.
“She attacked me!”
Hear the fear, faint muted fear.
“She's less than half your size!”
Danger closer, too close too close!.
Leap up.
Snarl. Bite. Kill. Blood. Fear. Teeth. Pain. Hurt. Hate. Crazy. Shadows.
Paws. So many paws. Warm paws, hard paws, gentle-hard-warm paws.
The scarred, scared pup, pressed against the ground, biting and screeching, but causing no harm. The terrified sound of her voice echoing from tree to tree, piercing the blue sky. The brave pup who wanted her mother.
Safe?
64
The trainee learned quickly, but lost her wildness slowly. It was hard for her to lose the wildness of a crazy mother. The craziness of her wild mother. The desperate grief of her mother.
Almost safe.
Run with the pack. Train, grow, learn, fight. Losing fear and hate and bite. Being safe. No fear, only trust, respect, and light. No shadows. Strange. Cold, but no shadows. No crazy Kindratis. Poor crazy Kindratis. Poor mother. Sad, lost, lonely, no Wayl-mother.
Safe.
97
The wolf was sad and happy at the same time. She was no longer a trainee, no longer a pup, no longer bound by a chain made of horrors and memories. She was bound by a new chain, a light chain. A chain of duty and loyalty and living. She was no longer her mother.
A warrior.
Happy.
A guardian.
Happier.
A defender.
Laughter inside her skull, ringing like a bird song through her head. She had escaped. Escaped from a fate of cold crazy shadows. She was a survivor. A pup who had walked across Anteer and almost died.
Didn't die.
Sorrow for those she had loved and a life she had lived gushed up from her heart. She wailed a song to the empty sky, a song of laugher and tears, sorrow and pain, joy and light and safety.
We are here, then we are not. The time here must be worth it.
Stand. Turn. Face a new day in the blue sky, in the ripple surfaced pool. Make it worth it.
“I am Jahzra.”
A howl for Wayl.
“I am Jahzra.”
A whine for beautiful Kindratis.
“I am Jahzra.”
A snarl for the past.
“I am Jahzra!”
A song for the future
The pup lay on the bare earth, inside the den, warmed from the body heat of her mother.
Her mother. Her beautiful mother. Her huge, dappled, big-horned, soft-furred, comfort-mother.
“I never want to see you again.”
Her mother. Her crazy, lip-curled, shining teeth bared, hair raised, horrible mother.
“Get out!”
Sharp pain. Cry out.
Crazy mother. Crazy, no-father, yowling mother. Father gone. Father was here, was gone, is gone, not here. Cold shadows swallowed. Cold shadows on a moonlit night. Blood and teeth and cries of pain and shadows.
The pup ran, stumbling through the dense, clawing undergrowth, evading the tree's deadly, pointed branches. She cowered under a rotting stump, the snow sifting down through her thick fur, making her shiver. Hiding from her mother.
“Jahzra!”
Cold back against cold ground under cold log in cold night with cold stars. Wet leaves tickle, soft sounds tickle. Smells twist, new smells, cold, damp, mother smells.
Yowl.
Her mother. Her warm tongue, warm heart, warm smell mother. Beautiful mother.
53
The young wolf, leaving. Shaking off a past that was no more, trying to evade the shadows. Escaping from the memory that was still real to her mother.
“Jahzra,”
Sad smelling mother. Poor Kindratis. Poor lonely, father lost, crazy, Kindratis mother.
“Please?”
Shake head.
“No.”
“Please?”
Shake.
Growl. Kindratis lip curled like an autumn leaf. Snarling autumn leaf. Crazy cold, shadowed autumn leaf.
“No!”
Lunge.
Dodge. Burning throat, burning sight, burning thought, burning heart, burning fear, burning hate, burning hurt.
“You'
Lunge.
“Will.”
Lunge.
“Not.”
Snap
“Leave. Me!”
Rip.
Pain. Burning hot blood running pain. Fire shoulder, fire fear, fire hate, crazy shadows. Cold shadows clutching, blazing fire burning, blazing fire of glistening teeth. Teeth that were beautiful.
Run fast. Must leave the crazy shadows. Crazy mother. Shadowed Kindratis. Memory and shadows. Cold rusty shadows that burn and freeze and hate.
Leave.
60
The old-young pup. Jaded and scared, Jaded and scarred, honest and afraid, came upon a scent, so unlike her mother.
Danger.
Strange Isnaroh.
Smell the scent of other. Large, thick, warm other. Dangerous other. Must protect. Never let shadows enter. Scent blood. Warm blood. Ready, set, go!
Leap.
Turn.
Surprise, the sharp unwavering scent of surprise. No fear. No cold, burning, crazy fear.
Teeth rip, but no. No fur, teeth jar on empty danger-scented air. Why?
Ground rushing up. Feel the crash of ground on bone, ground on flesh, ground on blood, paws on top.
Large paws. Growl-voice.
“Who are you?”
Hard voice. Big voice. Big, strong, loud, male, blood voice.
Whine.
More cold tinted surprise. More danger.
“What is it?”
New voice. Softer voice, hard but softer voice.
“A pup.”
“You attacked her?”
Anger, crazy anger. Smell the hot, blood lust anger inside.
“She attacked me!”
Hear the fear, faint muted fear.
“She's less than half your size!”
Danger closer, too close too close!.
Leap up.
Snarl. Bite. Kill. Blood. Fear. Teeth. Pain. Hurt. Hate. Crazy. Shadows.
Paws. So many paws. Warm paws, hard paws, gentle-hard-warm paws.
The scarred, scared pup, pressed against the ground, biting and screeching, but causing no harm. The terrified sound of her voice echoing from tree to tree, piercing the blue sky. The brave pup who wanted her mother.
Safe?
64
The trainee learned quickly, but lost her wildness slowly. It was hard for her to lose the wildness of a crazy mother. The craziness of her wild mother. The desperate grief of her mother.
Almost safe.
Run with the pack. Train, grow, learn, fight. Losing fear and hate and bite. Being safe. No fear, only trust, respect, and light. No shadows. Strange. Cold, but no shadows. No crazy Kindratis. Poor crazy Kindratis. Poor mother. Sad, lost, lonely, no Wayl-mother.
Safe.
97
The wolf was sad and happy at the same time. She was no longer a trainee, no longer a pup, no longer bound by a chain made of horrors and memories. She was bound by a new chain, a light chain. A chain of duty and loyalty and living. She was no longer her mother.
A warrior.
Happy.
A guardian.
Happier.
A defender.
Laughter inside her skull, ringing like a bird song through her head. She had escaped. Escaped from a fate of cold crazy shadows. She was a survivor. A pup who had walked across Anteer and almost died.
Didn't die.
Sorrow for those she had loved and a life she had lived gushed up from her heart. She wailed a song to the empty sky, a song of laugher and tears, sorrow and pain, joy and light and safety.
We are here, then we are not. The time here must be worth it.
Stand. Turn. Face a new day in the blue sky, in the ripple surfaced pool. Make it worth it.
“I am Jahzra.”
A howl for Wayl.
“I am Jahzra.”
A whine for beautiful Kindratis.
“I am Jahzra.”
A snarl for the past.
“I am Jahzra!”
A song for the future
((This is just a note:
I've never really written anything this long in this style before. Usually do third person, not stream of consciousness, so it might sound a little weird, but I really wanted to try it. It probably isn’t good, but I had a lot of fun writing it, so I don't care. If you have no clue what happened, comment and I'll explain.))
1. Older Isnaroh have larger horns than the younger ones.
2. Isnaroh soon became incredibly intelligent and were able to use their intelligence to evade the humans.
3. Because they view it as disrespectful to their prey, the Isnaroh, unlike the Sorith, do not adorn themselves with bones.
