I was born a rogue, but that doesn't mean I wanted to be. I hate never knowing what it means to call somewhere home. Aimlessly wandering with my kind throughout the world, there is no comfort to this way of life, no warmth or sanctuary. I've been taught that to long for these things is weakness, yet I cannot shake the need I feel, the craving I have for more than this dreary life. After my mother died in child birth many feared I had cursed our people, my father was never the same after that night. In his rage at the loss of his mate, he attacked me. I knew why, he blamed me for her death, but the alpha must have his heir. Thus I have been allowed to live for the past 18 years, loathed and judged by most. I couldn't look at my own reflection without being reminded of the burden I was to my own blood and the part I played. So when I'm separated harshly from everything I've ever known, I'm tested to my limits to survive. Yet it is said that for some to reach the light, you must first pass through the deepest darkness.