CBD1 :: WANDERER :: CYDONIA SKYE

Her favourite season is winter, because of the long nights and short days that make it easier to transport medicine and prosthetics from the Distric Six smuggling ring out into her home, the wilderness. She can't remember ever having a different favourite time of year, just like she can't remember her real name, or whether her eyes are really grey or have just faded from keen night-time lookouts and the blinding searchlights of hovercrafts (which she has almost always escaped in the past).

She's a troublemaker; she lost her age when they cut off her little fingers and marked her as a thief, and she could no longer count her years. She knows that she passed twenty years long ago, though, but still the incompleteness of her hands sometimes suggest that she's uncountable. The artificial digits that she attached there came straight from the Capitol in a shiny box. They don't help her scale fences or hold a gun, but they make her feel more whole - without taking away the immortality that her scarred hands provides.

She's never felt lonely, and she's forgotten fear. Sometimes, she wakes up dressed only in a sheet, her body numb, and she has to place where she is by checking the sky for light pollution and the ground for water. She has a purpose, a circle of crooks and sinners just like herself - she belongs. Often she has nightmares, ambiguous flashes of buildings or faces that she can never place. She talks like she isn't all there, in half sentences, and perhaps that's because she sold her spirit to the woods when she ran away, and she hasn't got it all back. But that's who she is, and that's how she always wants to be. A criminal, a wayfarer, and an instrument of chaos.