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What did it mean to lose your humanity? What was humanity? Was it just something that they all had inside them? Was it a state of being? Or was it something only a human could have? In Clove Riverdin's opinion they all had some bits of humanity in them, whether it was the glimmering bits of a soul, a conscience, the darkness that tortured the human mind, or the intelligent thought that graced it. However, she felt that more and more of her kin, the people in her species, were losing what little grasp on humanity they had left.

As Clove wandered the filthy roads of the Old Streets, in the city of Vicetendia, the largest city left in the land called Dead Earth; she looked at the shapes huddled in the corners of alleyways, trying to shrink desperately into the shadows. The Ferals were forced to live in the squalor of the Old Streets. Forced to separate themselves from those who were called the Pure.

Why, someone who was not from Dead Earth may ask, why was there such prejudice toward such a large group of the people who made up the few cities that existed in the world? It was a simple answer, though one's whose story started 200 years ago.

The world known as Earth, with all its rainforests and jungles, with all its glorious rain and oceans. That world was no longer, before global warming even became the serious problem that everyone knew it would be; there was a war. A horrible, disgustingly destructive war that decided the fate not only of the human race, but the entire world.

Once again, the leaders of countries turned to nuclear and biological warfare when things got too rough, though the consequences were extreme, they ignored them. After explosives, numerous nuclear bombs, and 5 types of biological diseases were dropped on various feuding countries, the Earth could no longer take it.

The sheer destructive power of the humans and their toys, ruined the world as they knew it. As the radiation soaked into the atmosphere and the radiated rain began to ruin the soil and crops, humanity knew nothing would be the same.

The diseases that the humans released had mutated from severe flus, and more deadly diseases (yet nothing that should cause as much devastation as it did), it changed each human it infected in severe ways. It took several generations to become what would be a gene mutation, but it did eventually become part of who were left over.

So, as it stood today, there were no longer jungles and rainforests, the oceans were no longer safe to swim in, and the fresh water from lakes and most rivers no longer safe to drink. It took around 80 years for what fresh water that was collected from the above ground, to be safe now. But the worst of it? The human population, or what had been the humans, now stood at a meager 700,000 people. Most of the land that existed was cracked wasteland or desert, with small spattering of radiated forests here and there. The animals were far from what they were when Earth was normal, and there were two sub-species of humanity now, the heavily radiated Ferals, which showed physical mutations and harder to control baser instincts; and then there was the Pures, they showed no outer physical mutations and were not slaves to their instincts, but their mutations were there. The Pures had freakishly high IQs, and often strange powers.

Yet, this did not answer the question, why was over half the population on Dead Earth forced to beg, to starve, to hide their faces and turn away from staring eyes; why were they shunned? It was simple, as prejudice always had been with humanity even during the living days of the Earth. Yet even though it was simple to explain, didn't mean it was simple to understand, didn't mean it was simple to accept or ignore, even at the best of times.

The Pures were what the English or white skinned people had been during the taking over of Ancient Earth. Except now the Pures were the minority, they just held all the power, and were similar enough to the humans of old that it was "accepted" for them to treat the mutated freaks of the Feral community the ways they did.

From what Clove knew of the Ancient Humans, there were many races, many different colors, and the whites (though they were the majority), were not the only ones who were prejudice. Eventually tolerance was found in the later days of Ancient Earth, at least more tolerance than there had been in the earlier centuries. From what she understood there were always those people who hated, who judged, who blamed.

It seemed these days, the days of Dead Earth, that all the tolerance that had been gained during the few centuries of Ancient Earth, had been thrown away. Though there was no slavery, at least none where the Ferals got nothing in return, there was... some far worse things that Clove had heard about.

There were rumors that had started floating around recently, of Ferals being harvested, but this was different than anything she had heard before. There would always be the sex trade and the underground fight rings, but the Harvestings... from what Clove had heard Ferals who would not be missed were captured and taken somewhere. They were drained of their spinal fluid for some sort of drug, and then their bones crushed for alternative medicine, in some circles of the Pure... Feral bone dust was considered an aphrodisiac.

Clove wasn't quite sure what their spinal fluid was supposed to do, nor did she ever want to find out. Not that she probably ever would. Clove wasn't a normal Feral. Her father had been a Feral, he had been plagued with high adrenaline and aggression, his skin covered in scales and webbing between his fingers and toes. Her mother however... Clove had a Pure mother, who had been amazingly gifted with intelligence and the ability to fly on a single thought.

Clove was what was called an Obscured, she was neither a Feral or a Pure, she was hated by both. She had no home, no people, no family. Her mother and father had been killed for her birth, luckily her mother had forced her own sister to care for her monstrous child. Saying if she were to turn her mother in and get the reward, she had to care of Clove as a child.

Aunt Telsa did until Clove turned thirteen, old enough to take care of herself, too large to conceal easily anymore. Especially when the huge leathery wings on her back grew larger than her own body, and the scales spread across her cheeks, down her neck and spattered across her chest, the backs of her hands, and her back.

Clove now at twenty-seven years old, stood in a world of hatred and death, a world where she had no one to turn to and none she could trust. But what was new? She could have easily passed for a Feral if not for the obviously intelligent gleam in her silver eyes, the eyes where her pupils had now turned to sharply pointed diamonds in the last three years. Her hair was a striking ice blue, matching the powdery silver blue of the scale patches that adorned her body. Her wings that stretched above her small five foot-three-inch frame, were a slightly darker blue with patches of glittering silver that appeared in the right light. None of this would be considered out of the ordinary if she was a Feral.

To some she would be beautiful, in a way. To herself and those who knew who she was, what she was, Clove was a creature of taint and a thing that should never have come into existence. The Ferals knew she wasn't them because her scent was muddled, thick, and wrong. The Pures knew she wasn't a Feral because her ability to look at them without flinching, and her ability to talk them with eloquence like they were equals. She had never fit in anywhere, not since her wings appeared, because let's face it, you can hide a few scales, but when you have wings that are taller than your own body, well, you are pretty much out of luck.

So why was it Clove Riverdin found herself, on her birthday of all days, trying to fit in with the Ferals of the Old Streets? This was most likely the place she was least wanted in the entire city of Vicetendia, and yet it was where she wanted to fit in the most. Here was the most likely place she could be "accepted."

So, there she sat after she had made her way to the only bar in the area she could even think of trusting, with such a heavy amount of perfume on her it made her stomach quiver with a threat of retching, nursing a drink of melpod beer and frowning down at the worn wood grain of the bar in an effort to keep her mind blank of unwelcomed thoughts. The beer smelled of the fruit it was made of, sweet, crisp, almost like sunshine. Its color was something she had grown to love, the melpod was one of her favorite fruits, it grew far away, in the forest zone of Tureth City. The fruit when unripe was colored a pure white, even it's usually black skin. When it grew ready to pick, the skin turned an ebony black and the flesh inside turned luminous yellow, it was the size of a large man's fist and the shape of an oval.

The vibrant yellow liquid in the mug she held glowed strangely against her olive tanned skin. It made the skin on her hands look sickly, almost jaundice. Her hand left the mug, her gaze watching the glitter of her silvery-blue scales on the back of her hand and knuckles shine merrily in the low torchlight of the run-down bar.

Her eyes flicked up at the sound of a knife hitting the throwing board. Clove glanced over to see where it landed, it had hit the square of the 250-point area, of the thick wood that was covered in thin knife marks, each point area marked clearly with chalk. The Feral who had thrown it, a large man with curled tusks that protruded from his mouth and ears that curled into a loop, the tips of his ears were connected with two hooped earrings between which hung a silver chain that swooped around the back of his head, she saw him snort and point to the board while elbowing another Feral in the ribs. The other Feral was a much smaller and thinner man, with green skin and layers of a hide that overlapped each other in a strange ribbing pattern. He frowned at the other man, apparently displeased with his well-aimed dagger, and began talking rapidly, though Clove's attention had begun to fade already and she focused somewhere else other than the wickedly pointed teeth in the green Feral's mouth.

She remembered her sixth birthday, the first one she could remember clearly. She had spent it in the small room that had become her life, the room was barely big enough to walk ten paces either length or width. It had just a barely big enough cot for her at the age she was, that night she knew she had turned a year older, yet nothing was different about that day. Clove had expected something different to happen every birthday, nothing did until her thirteenth birthday. That was the day her entire life changed, she was given what she needed to survive; a dagger, a bedroll, a flask, and a few meals comprised of rations. She was told by her Aunt, that the only person she had known her entire life, could no longer care for her. That Clove was old enough, and that she had to make her own way.

Clove had sat on the doorstep, sobbing for hours, the first hour she pleaded with her Aunt through the closed metal door; but eventually something inside the young mutant hardened, she realized she was alone at the moment and had no home. Everything she knew was gone, behind that metal door, and she would never see it again. She shouldered her pack and left. It wasn't until she made it into town that Clove actually realized how alone she was.

In the beginning, Clove had no idea that she was different, or why she was. Not until she heard what people called her, and someone beat her away screaming at her obscenities and saying she should never have happened.

With some digging she learned why, she also learned how to exist without people figuring it out right away. Yet that was all it was, existing. Her silver eyes glanced around the dim room of the bar, it was full of Ferals, bar maids flirted with patrons who were inappropriately grabby with their hands. The bar she rested her scaled hands on had definitely seen better days, though looked like it was well cared for even if it was decrepit. The chairs and stools were mismatched, and the tables looked like they were made by hand by a very drunk carpenter.

Clove finished off the rest of her melpod beer and threw a piece of silver down on the bar, before standing and leaving without a word. As she stepped through the metal doorway of the bar, there was a definite shift in the temperature. Though it had been warm in the bar, the night air was freezing, the sandy soil beneath Clove's feet adjusted to accommodate her weight. She quickly covered her face and shoulders with a heavy cloth, and her wings came around her body to protect her soft flesh from the chill of the night air.

She blinked her eyes as the night world came into focus, clear as crystal. Since her pupil shape had changed she had been gifted with amazingly clear night vision. She inhaled deeply, the scent of flowers from some nearby garden.

The strange thing about being in Dead Earth, was that it smelled so clean, so much like being lost out in the wilderness far away from the rest of society when you could be right in the middle of the largest city. Clove wondered if that was because there was so little to their population anymore, or if the world really was recovering after centuries of slow rotting.

The rain was different these days from what she understood the rain had been like in the end days of Ancient Earth. The last decade of Ancient Earth's life was full of rain that caused terror because over half the world was plagued with regular acid rain storms. Now as Dead Earth was well within the realms of recovering, the acid rain was gone, it had instead been replaced by a rain that was so nutrient rich, that the radiated bodies of the Ferals and the Pures were physically burned by the rain. Their skin had learned to live within the acid rain, they had mutated to be able to drink it and walk in it with no ill effects. However, with this fresh and healthy rain, they had to flee from it and hide under specially placed awnings or protect themselves with metal umbrellas.

There was one good thing about the rain though, it made the planet thrive. It wasn't until the acid rain stopped that the forests of today started to grow. It was a start, and at least now they could cultivate plants instead of just living off of rations and meats.

So, it was interesting that she, Clove, the tainted and disgusting bastard combination of two things that should never have crossed paths like that; it was interesting to Clove that the rain was merely refreshing to her.

The rain, that had the Ferals and Pures running in fear and yet kept their crops growing, Clove could step into it like it was a treated acidic shower. That was why when she smelled the moisture on the air, she wasn't like the other Ferals in the Old Streets, she didn't run for cover.

She merely looked up and waited, out in the middle of the sandy pathway that was the street outside the bar, Clove's silver eyes stared up at the fast-approaching clouds and waited with bated breath. When it rained, the world was hers. For a moment, Clove was allowed to belong, was allowed to feel like, at least something knew she was supposed to be there. Even if it was just the weather.

Slowly, she lowered the cloth around her head and opened her wings to expose her petite frame to the storm that was rumbling above her. The wind whipped around her, snatching at her long ice blue hair and dragging it off the shawl she had turned the cloth into.

Then it started to fall, a few drops at first, causing a few stragglers to scream in pain as their skin started to sizzle and scar before their very eyes. She ignored them, they had never helped her, why should she help them?

Instead she continued staring, this was her present, this was the celebration of the day of her birth, the weather had gifted her with the streets of the very city that had become as much as a prison as that room had been. She was free to walk today, without fear of ridicule or slander. Today was her day.

The weather seemed to understand her desires, and the skies opened up, sheets of chilled rain hit the ground and soaking Clove in an instant. She closed her eyes and just sighed, feeling the constant tension and the constant guard she had up, dissipate with each drop that rolled down her skin. It was perfect, this feeling of being unclean was being washed from her skin, her soul, and there was no one who could stop her from just existing today.

Suddenly there was a scream that pierced through her hypnotic state, she wasn't sure how long it had been happening but if she had to guess it started when the rain began. Clove considered ignoring the screaming, but it wouldn't stop. The horrid sound wouldn't stop, and she knew she couldn't ignore it and enjoy her present, no, she had to stop the brutal endless tone before she continued celebrating.

A huff of anger, but with a face set like stone, Clove's impressive wings unfurled to their full fifteen-foot span and she focused ahead. Her leg muscles coiled tightly and her ribs opened their extra inches that the hinges in her ribcage held, filling her lungs completely and allowing for flight easier. She bent in the knees, keeping the rest of her body like knife's edge, her arms tight to her side; the huge length of her cobalt wings moved up, and pushed down with such a speed they blurred, her legs pushing off at the exact right moment.

The sand beneath her cratered hugely, not just because of the wind created by her taking to the air, the ten foot in diameter crater had been created by the force of her legs and the sonic pressure she had exerted underneath her wings. It was one of the reasons Clove did not fly unless far out of the city or unless it was for emergencies. Every take off literally destroyed the ground under her, she could only imagine what it'd be like if she did it regularly, there would be craters all over the streets in Vicentendia.

The rain fell around her in such a thick amount it blurred anything she looked at. She frowned in frustration, slowly she climbed higher into the storm, careful to catch updrafts under her wings, until she could see the entire city before her. It had taken too long, the screaming had disappeared, but if she concentrated she could still hear wracking sobs from somewhere to the north-east.

She narrowed her vision, blinking slowly, until her vision slid from colors of the night, to black with flashes of bright red in various houses below her. Her heat vision finally slid into full focus, and she concentrated on raking through the splotches of misshapen red. There! Almost a mile ahead, there was the deepest and brightest shape.

"Ha!" Clove whispered in a voice that obviously saw little use, though it was almost melodic in nature, it was hoarse and gravelly in a way it shouldn't be.

Taking another huge lungful of air, once again expanding her rib cage that few extra inches, she took off. Her speed was amazing considering how much her wings were usually used, and obviously made for soaring. When she focused however she could hit the sound barrier. Yet, those speeds could only be maintained for short amounts of time.

She was spinning in the air, a quick and sharp barrel roll, every now and then to fling the water droplets from the membranes on her wings so that it didn't slow her down or force her to land. Clove reached the area within seconds, though if she admitted it, once she touched down her chest was heaving desperately, and her shoulders and wing joints burned from the exertion. She had learned at a young age in order to move her wings she had to at least roll her shoulders and moving them that fast and rapidly was hard work especially in a storm, her Aunt had always said it was because the anchor to her wings and her body was some sort of socket in her scapulae.

When her boots touched the ground, her body bowed slightly as her wings flung out in a desperate need to stretch out the ache in her shoulders. Clove flung her shocking blue hair out of her eyes and blinked the rain from her lashes. She turned to the sound of whimpering farther down the alleyway that she stood at the opening of, her eyes narrowed, once again sliding into night vision mode.

Her silver eyes fell upon a crumpled body, desperately pushing itself against the brick wall next to it. Clove's nostrils flared as she sampled the air, male... the shape belonged to a male Pure. She frowned, carefully folding her wings around her small form. She approached the shadowed man carefully, her fingers resting lightly on the handle of her long dagger, the sight hidden from the man cowering in front of her by her wings.

"Please... please, help me? It burns so much I can't... move," his voice was desperate, weak; and she could tell from the hint of shame in it that he was not used to feeling this and his voice held a strength in its baritone timbre that made her all the warier.

She moved closer, until she was standing beside him, finally able to see his features. The overhang from the building offered hardly any protection, and he was desperately trying to contort his large form closer to the protected parts of the wall. Clove studied him for a few seconds, his skin was burning right before her eyes yet as soon as it started to scar, a strange purple sheen would appear on the wound and the skin would once again turn to its flawless alabaster white until the next rain drop hit the same area.

So, this Pure had healing abilities, Clove gently opened her right wing by lifting her arm. It created a protective umbrella over him, and she resigned herself with a sigh to sit beside him with her back against the brick. She apparently would not be spending her birthday out walking the streets alone and safe for a few hours. This man was far too large for her to move, too tall, and most of his body weight was muscle.

Honestly though, she couldn't leave him, he just looked so desperate and had asked in a way that had obviously said he wished he'd never had to. He was shuddering at the moment, his body finally coming down from the constant pain. As he relaxed more and more, his body slowly unwound from its defensive fetal position. As he uncoiled into a hunched sitting position, with his knees drawn close to his chest so no part of his would get hit with the rain, Clove realized just how tall he was.

If he was standing she would guess he was around six foot two, his body was muscular but not disgustingly so. His spiked hair was a shocking black color paired with mahogany eyes. He sported a silver stud piercing that was connected to a hoop on the edge of his ear in an auricle piercing. His eyebrow also glinted with a spiked silver barbell. His skin was porcelain white, not color to it at all, and when he raised his eyes to meet her gaze he saw it, the difference in Clove that every being on the planet could.

She didn't lower her gaze though, instead Clove cleared her throat to take the edge of the rasp out of her voice and said, "Why did you allow yourself to get caught out in the rain?"

She could see the sudden judgement in his gaze for a split second then his shoulders moved in a shrug and he responded, "Sometimes it's hard for a Pure to notice it correctly. Ferals are able to smell the moisture coming with their enhanced sense of smell, Pures' do not have that. I have heard about a few Pures who got caught out in the rain and died from exposure, fortunately with my healing abilities I have never had more than a few hours of severe pain, most of which I am not even aware of because I eventually black out within fifteen minutes or so."

Clove was surprised his response. Not necessarily by what he said, but the fact that he said anything at all, and the fact that when he did speak his voice was merely stiff, there was no real disgust in it.

She eyed him as she turned her gaze forward, merely watching him from her peripheral vision as she tried to make the situation less awkward, "I guess that makes sense. What is a Pure like you doing in the Old Streets anyway? This isn't exactly the safest place to be for a Pure, especially alone."

He snorted as if he she had something funny, though she knew it was a sarcastic reaction, since his body was still vibrating with tension, "No Feral, no matter how stupid they were, would hurt me. It would be suicide."

She looked at him a bit closer when she turned her head to regard him a bit more carefully. Was that comment smug? Was he so sure of his physical strength or power that he felt he could easily take on whoever took too much interest in him? Or did he have connections?

The way he carefully avoided looking at her, touching any part of her, it showed he obviously wasn't comfortable with her presence. The stiffness that showed in his body and his voice was not welcoming. However, he needed her, and he didn't want to insult her, so he was trying his best to fight the innate prejudice that all the Pures and Ferals were born with against the Obscured.

Though it wasn't really acceptance, or outright enjoyment of her company, this was the closest she had been to companionship from another human source for years. It felt odd for her, made her agitated in ways, but it also made her feel so much better. Clove watched him for a bit, taking in his sculpted cheek bones and pouty lips. If she knew what attraction felt like she could say she found him beautiful. Yet throughout her entire life, Clove specifically distanced herself from the human race. Tried to make it so she didn't yearn for another's touch.

He glanced over at her, a strange emotion gleamed in his mahogany eyes, she would say it was most likely curiosity. All she could do was smile, then something happened that she never expected. He returned the smile, with hesitancy.

"My name is Darren," he said, some of the stiff and cold tones had left, and though his voice definitely wasn't friendly, it wasn't off putting.

"I am Clove," she whispered it, this was the first time she had given her name to someone in ten years at least.

"Why doesn't the rain hurt you... Clove?" Darren's question was simple, but the way he said her name, was experimentally, he knew by the way she had introduced herself, that she rarely gave her name to people.

Clove shrugged slightly, causing her wings to rise and fall, "That is a good question. One I have yet to find the answer to. I have never been bothered by the rain, when everyone else always runs and screams, all I do is relish it. I always enjoy it on days like this, it always makes me feel... like I belong, even if no one else thinks I do."

Darren quickly dropped his gaze as she looked at him and she said those last words. A slight tinge of pink stained his cheeks, and Clove felt a rush of satisfaction. He stared pointedly at the ground for a few minutes until the blush faded and then glanced at her again.

"Does the radiated water that everyone else uses cause you problems?" his eyebrow quirked.

Clove merely shook her head and said, "No, neither forms of water do."

They fell silent once again, she wasn't uncomfortable with it at all. It was actually quite familiar for her to be surrounded by silence more than talking. So even when he shifted nervously Clove didn't try to reinitiate conversation. She wouldn't even know what to ask, she had stopped taking an interest in other people a long time ago, unless it was for her benefit.

He cleared his throat and tried once again, "How do you move around in the Old Streets? This is pretty much an all Feral side of town from what I know, so how do you not get beat up every place you go?"

His eyes scanned her form as if looking for bruises that he had missed. Her tank top didn't hide much especially since her poncho wasn't being used at the moment and her head scarf had been moved to just sit loosely around her neck. However, her legs were completely covered in her wet jeans.

She laughed, throatily, "I have some ways of getting around among the Ferals without drawing too much attention if I am quiet."

Darren watched her intently, his eyes scanning her face and emotions. Clove was more open with her emotions than most people she had met when she felt comfortable. Maybe because she rarely felt comfortable, so when she did she took full advantage of it. Almost twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, she hid behind a mask of deceit and lies. A mask of chill and dulled flickers of what could be considered impossible to read shadows of emotions. However, when she wasn't surrounded by potential dangers, her expressions were far more child-like than would be expected.

As the rain continued to pour down on them, she lifted her face to the downpour and sighed as the cool water ran down the skin and scales on her cheeks in rivulets to her neck. Darren watched her from the corner of his eyes. There was a spark of jealousy within him, she was able to enjoy such a wonderful and simple thing. Yet he also found her strangely beautiful, though she looked so much like a Feral, she was something that was supposedly so much more disgusting.

The problem was Clove had the intelligence of a Pure and the odd beauty that certain Ferals held. Clove had never ever thought herself beautiful. Though it wasn't really because of her physical aspects, she didn't even see those parts of her when she looked in a mirror. She only saw what everyone else told her she was, what everyone else said was wrong with her.

What was wrong with that, was that what everyone saw was wrong with her was just one very tiny part of her. It didn't make up much of her at all. Well it didn't in the beginning... Sadly as the hate continued to bombard Clove regarding her mixed race, she grew to hate not only herself but everyone who surrounded her.

Clove exhaled lightly as the cool rain washed away all her worries even if it was just a for a few moments, she turned to look at the Pure next to her, realizing his eyes were on her. She smiled timidly, and chuckled a bit, there was almost an apology in that small laugh.

"It seems like the rain is starting to let up," she said as she turned her silver gaze skyward.

Truly, the rain was falling just as hard as before, but she smelled the cold, clear night air approaching. A small frown drew his brows together, as he looked up into the sky, it almost looked like he didn't feel satisfied with the rain ending.

"My last name is, Bloodworth. You should be able to find me on the Pure side of the city if you drop the last name," Darren said, she recognized the soft-spoken words as a kind of truce between them.

She had helped him so he would help her if she needed it. Still it surprised her though it obviously was an honor thing for him, she had never had anyone who she could go to for 'help'. Though she was quite certain she would never use this favor he had extended, it still made her fell a bit warm inside.

The rain had started lightening within the last few minutes and then it stopped. Clove blinked up at the night sky that was still covered with thick clouds. She frowned slightly and carefully moved her arm so it retracted her wing and spilled as little water as possible, none hit Darren.

"You better start heading out before the rain starts again if it decides to," she said, once again her voice held a chill in it, as she carefully replaced her mask.

He glanced over at her, looking as if he wanted to say something, before shaking his head and swallowing whatever it was. He stood, his full height becoming very obvious as he bent to offer a hand to help her up. She looked at it for a second, before pushing up from the ground without taking his offer of help.

His hand retracted, almost as if she had lashed out at him with words, slow and hurt, "Well, thank you... you have my deepest gratitude, Clove. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. Don't forget my offer."

As she looked at him one last time and nodded, he offered a small smile in parting, one she did not return. The rain had stopped, their safety bubble was gone, and the cold harsh world of Dead Earth was back. The one where he was the top of the food chain, and she was below even the sandy soil they walked on. He frowned almost as if in confusion when she didn't offer any sort of friendliness in return, and instead, carefully folded her wings around her as she exited the alleyway.

Then when she was free of the confining walls, she glanced once over her shoulder, almost regretfully meeting his mahogany gaze once, before her wings opened and she took off from the ground. As the cool and humid night air brushed its welcoming fingers through her long hair, she sighed as the tension left her chest while she made her way out of the city, to the outskirts of the territory of Vicentendia. At the very edge of it, where the land became more wild, sat a small metal house. This was home to Clove, and it was the only place she knew for absolute certainty she was safe.

As she dropped in front of the door, and stepped through after retracting her wings into their resting positions next to her back, she inhaled the familiar smell of smoked meats and herbs. Then slowly she slid down against the wall as the door closed behind and wept. She had forgotten how much she had lost when she was thirteen and the somewhat regular contact of her aunt was gone. She had forced away all needs for human contact a few years after and never thought of it again. But tonight, she had allowed herself to open up even if it was just for half an hour in the safety of the rain. It had been stupid, and painful.

She never wanted this again, this horrible yearning desire to feel the touch of another human, even if it was just a comforting hand on the shoulder. Shaking as she tried to force the tears down, she smiled a watery smile as her tilef came up to her. His harsh coughing hiss in a greeting as the affectionate wolf-size reptile butted its head against her hand. She stroked his large, smooth scales gently. At least Bentley still loved her.