I was sent to the Horde after my parents died. They were killed by the Horde in an attempt to escape or so I've been told. Shadow Weaver made it her business to make sure I knew my parents could've been alive if I had only been quiet. The Horde heard my cries and killed them. Shadow Weaver is the only reason they didn't kill me too. I suppose she expects me to be grateful. Despite the obvious, it wasn't all bad. After I arrived I met Catra who introduced me to Adora. They were my family and my best friends. When we were 8 years old I went too far. I snuck into Hordaks room and took his flying demon. I would've gotten away with it too if I hadn't fallen asleep. The demon went and told on me because of course it did. Hordak set up a meeting and decided my fate. I was gping to Beast Island. No one survives that place. I remember immediately looking at Catra and Adora and seeing them cry, holding eachother, watching the guards take me away, being held back from getting near me. It was probably no it was, the worst day of my life. The sentence wasn't long though. After 2 years on Beast Island I escaped. They were terrible years but nothing compared to the day I lost my second family. When it happens once people feel sorry for you but twice? They start to wonder if maybe somethings wrong with you. I worked hard for years. Stealing food, sneaking into people's homes, taking their belongings. I didn't like it (well maybe just a little) but I did what I had to do to survive. If I could just see them, one more time. That dream was enough. The woods were my home. For years I hadn't come across much except defeated Horde bots. So you can imagine how shocked (but happy) I was when I came across them in the woods. My family.
