Hostia Aegrotatio - District 7 [Done]

HOSTIA AEGROTATIO



I'm glad for the forests of my District, they hide me as I run from the hunters. It's the only salvation I get in my life. Had I been birthed in any District but seven I would certainly be dead by now. Fifteen winters old and I've already been driven to the edge of so many cliffs.

Stricken with a case of Clinical Lycanthropy, she doesn't know that in reality she is human. Instead, she lives as a wolf, scouring the forests of District seven in an attempt to survive. At fifteen, she's hard pressed to stay alive in her situation, though she's more likely to die of starvation or poisoning than being killed by the hunters that stalk her in her mind.

Jumping up and down the floor,
My head is an animal.
And once there was an animal,

I AM A WOLF

My fur is a pale gray, so light in colour that it's almost like the moonlight had come from the sky and woven itself into my coat. There are two darker gray patches on my front paws, like guards over the lower part of my leg and the top of my paws. My underside is white, the only thing paler than my coat, and the colour stretches from my chest to the underside of my tail. The tip of my tail is the same dark gray as my other markings, and when I look into water I see that there are gray markings around my eyes, like patches but they have their own tails.

Her hair, tangled and matted from not being taken care of, is a rich red colour, when it's not muddy and snarled with leaves and tree litter. It swings to the middle of her back, though it would surely be another few inches longer if it was properly brushed out and the tangled bits of nature were removed. When it gets too long, for her, she uses a sharp rock to cut it. She was lucky with her eyebrows, though, their gentle curve and thin width making them draw attention to her wild eyes.

Her eyes are hazel, the kind that change so often that you couldn't label them anything else. People have said that her eyes are anywhere from a rich golden colour to a forest green, though the lighting can affect how they look so as to make people over exaggerate in stating how much they change. It is true, however, that they can be pure brown one day, and then a pale green the next, but any change greater than that is purely fictional.

Her nose is long, but narrow, the end flattening out just the slightest bit so that you could say it's almost snout-like. Her lips are full, but not overly so, and are simply a pinker version of her skin colour. Sometimes, after eating berries, she smears the juice over her lips to redden them like other girls do, thinking how it looked like blood on her lips instead of how it made them stand out more. Her face is ovular, with her chin forming the faintest of points. Under it is her neck, quite short but in no way thick, which leads into her slight shoulders.

It had a son that mowed the lawn.
The son was an ok guy,
They had a pet dragonfly.

A POWERFUL BEING

Her arms, with their short-fingered hands, extend to a bit past her waist. They are semi-muscled because of the plentiful physical activity she gets, but nothing really impressive since she hadn't built them up for a purpose. Her bust is pretty small, but it's helpful to her since it doesn't get in her way, and since there is no one she cares to impress, if she was even human enough to recognize that perhaps someone out there might at least want to get to know her, it doesn't matter to her either. Her figure is somewhat the shape commonly referred to as the "hourglass figure", and her hips are slightly wider than her upper torso.

Her legs aren't all that long, bringing her height to an average total of 5'6". More muscled that her arms, but not by much, they allow her to flee the people she believes are out to kill her. Because of all of the running she's done, she has high stamina and can jog for hours. She isn't overly fast, able to be caught by someone if they were faster than her for the first little bit, but being able to outrun and outdistance her supposed pursuers has saved her.

It's a wonder she even wears clothes at all, but the few times she has managed to pull herself together enough to go into town, which is rare, she realized that she would have to be clothed to do so. She would mainly steal clothes, though sometimes she would trade some of the berries or meat that she had collected for specific items. For the most part, though, she doesn't change her clothes and they often have many rips and holes in them. Fraying at the edges, the rags of previous shirts and pants that she had worn make up her bedding.

The dragonfly it ran away,
But it came back with a story to say.

I HOWL AND I WANDER

Like a cornered animal, I lash out when I'm pressed. A rabid wolf that everyone wants to kill, but no one can keep up with. I snap and growl, but only attack when I'm so blinded by my own condition that it's like I'm wandering in a haze of nothing.

Her condition waxes and wanes, sometimes leaving her aware that she has this illness, or at least that she is human, other times she truly believes she is a wolf, crouching on all fours and bearing her teeth like some sort of werewolf who never Changes. Anyone who sees her fears her, or some perhaps pity her. She has no notion of what she looks like, unless she has broken through the fog of her "wolf mind" to see herself and her surroundings as a human. Even in this state, where she is much more clear-minded, for all she can think quite clearly as "a wolf", she is still quite canine.

Sometimes, a bullet to the head sounds like a better idea.

Her dirty paws and furry coat,
She ran down the forest slope.
The forest of talking trees,

I HUNT AND I BREATHE

Dark thoughts swirl though her mind, images of death and life, killing and healing. She is as lost in her mind as she is in the forest. Except that she's never lost in the forest anymore, she knows it better than herself, which means little in this circumstance. How could she ever know herself if she can't even tell what species she is? It's why she has had times of both extreme depression or extreme aggression. She had even tried at points to attack one of her hunters, and then once to commit suicide, but there was no way to do so.

I could never take my own life, there are no cliffs to jump off, no sea to drown in, and my paws would fumble with any tool. It's hard when you're trapped in the wrong body.

But despite her traumatic past and her harsh circumstances, even despite her dark and sometimes suicidal thoughts, she could be happy. She was happy when she ran for no reason other than to run. She was happy when she was on the hunt, exploring as much as keeping tabs on the prey she stalked. She was happy when she finally caught her meal after half a day of what could be called and exhausting game of hide-and-seek. Only the poor creature who was found didn't live long enough to become 'it'. It meant she would go to sleep with a full belly for once, something that was a bit of a rare occurrence lately, especially because she hardly ever ate plants or berries anymore.

They used to sing about the birds and the bees.
The bees had declared a war,
The sky wasn't big enough for them all.

THOUGH EVERYONE HATES ME

Food is hard to come by, but I am good at hunting, when I have the opportunity. I've survived this long, I can keep surviving. I've gotten good at what I do, and I do what I need to to survive.

Perhaps she can be a bit snappy, but it's only the instinct in her. Her 'fight-or-flight' mind has been rattled so often that her reactions are as uncertain to her as to anyone else. It really is just pure instinct that she runs on, so watch your limbs when you approach her, or you might leave missing one. Or more. She isn't a cannibal by nature, but certainly if she were in her "wolf state" and a human approached her there could be a possibility of it.

The birds, they got help from below,
From dirty paws and the creatures of snow.

AND I MUST DODGE THE GUN

When I was a pup... no, it doesn't sound right, feel right. It's like I remember both being a pup and being a baby. But how is that possible, I'm a wolf, I can't be a human. Can I?

When she was born, she was loved. Her mother and father cared for her more than for themselves, or even each other. It was this fact that led to all of her troubles. For two years, they lived happily. A couple and their young daughter, joyfully living through the amusement ride that was life. That was, until it became an out-of-control roller coaster, and the restraints failed, leaving all chaos to break loose.

I thought my mother loved me, but it's my fault they split up. Had I not existed, they wouldn't have left one another. I ruined their lives. And in turn they ruined mine.

A couple months before her third birthday, her parents had a fight. The argument became more heated than it ever had before, and it ended as suddenly as it started, with her mother storming out the front door. The loud slam of the door as it was smashed shut was the last she ever saw of her mother. For a time, her father's anger was directed at her mother, and it made her afraid of him. The way he always simmered whenever something would remind him of her mother scared her. Then he seemed to quiet down, the anger gone from him, instead being replaced by deep love for her, as though he had never been angry. That was, until he decided she was too much like her mother.

And for a while things were cold,
They were scared down in their holes.

I HOLD ONTO MY LIFE

So much for me always being his shining star, he hated me and he probably wouldn't be pleased that I'm still alive. I'm sure he's the one leading the hunters to kill me.

For a while, he merely just put up with her, not quite willing to do anything to her yet. But eventually he reached a point where a spell of drunkenness made him forget all of his would-be regrets and he took her to the woods. Having heard the stories of what happens to those few who wandered into the woods alone at night, he thought it would be the easiest way for him to get rid of her. No blood on his hands, and with her history the thought of her running away wasn't so far fetched. In his mind, it was the perfect scheme. Except that her fate was something not even he expected.

He didn't realize that I was really a wolf, I was born to live in the forest. I'm no domesticated pooch to sit in laps, I'm a wild animal and I'm designed to live in the wilderness. Leaving me in the forest was the best thing he could have done for me. I was finally able to become the pup that I was meant to be.

He told her to follow him, and she did, until they reached the edge of the woods. It was then that she began to question, relaying her memory of the horror stories and refusing to go farther. So, sick of hearing her talk and sick of having her around, he tossed her over his shoulder and made his way into the forest. She tried to remember the way back, but there was only so much the mind of a three year old could hold onto. And directions weren't exactly a strong suit of hers. When he placed her down, she had no idea where they were.

The forest that once was green
Was colored black by those killing machines.

WHILE I CAN STILL RUN.

He left me there, alone and unprotected. It's a shame he didn't meet the fate he had wanted for me. But I guess not all stories are true.

She had watched him walk away, her hope and joy fading with his footsteps. Only fear was left in her as silence settled along with the foreboding awareness of the dark that pressed in on her. It took her a while to work up enough courage to start walking in any direction. After all, the forest had to end somewhere, right? Perhaps walking wasn't the right word, she more did a combination of walking and crawling, some of one and then some of the other. Old enough to have faint memories of the gruesome stories told about the woods, she experienced fear the like of which a child her age should have never known.

But I was alright. I may not belong to a pack, but I survived. I am surviving.

Having been unable to find her way out from under the trees, she was desperate for food. At least she had found a stream to drink from. Slowly she learned how to survive in the woods, all thanks to finding that stream. Managing over the years to grow up, and grow accustomed to the forest where she now lived. In the beginning she survived on plants, holding enough humanity in her mind to stay standing on two legs when she wasn't too tired. But she was so young, and she had gone through such a terrible experience that the effects of it began to take hold of her mind, slowly, imperceptibly changing her from the child she had been to the confused soul that was now trapped between minds.

But she and her furry friends
Took down the queen bee and her men.

OTHER

NOTE: This character is not a mutt, she simply has a medical condition which causes her to believe she is (Clinical Lycanthropy).

FC: Olga Sherer

Lyrics: Dirty Paws by Of Monsters And Men

Words
122 - Introduction
697 - Appearance
555 - Personality
871 - History
2245 - Total

And that's how the story goes,
The story of the beast with those four dirty paws.

odair