Once upon a time, things were shitty. From birth until two years of age, her life had been solely to survive her masters as the best medic possible, sometimes forcing her to do things she didn't seem moral in order to save her own skin. The term slave had never been used to describe her, but what else was she when she had free will, but only the free will she was told to have? She could wake one morning and decide to eat gazelle, but judgment would be passed if the masters preferred zebra that day. At the end, Willow had chosen to simply go with the crowd, calling it free will yet being restricted to absolutely fuck-all.

Then she had escaped (or was banished, she wasn't entirely sure) and things had begun to look up for a brief time. She had made some friends in the new land she lived in and that was lovely. It was unfortunate how quickly it all came crashing down.

Willow still remembered nearly spitting in his face when she stormed away and how, despite everything, part of her had hoped he would follow. He didn't; or if he did, he had never caught up to her. She could have used his help when, a few weeks into traveling, she had gotten trampled during a hunt and been forced to travel with a broken leg and fractured pelvis. A medic could only do so much without proper herbs and besides, it wasn't like there was anything to do for broken bones except to wait it out. With a partner, it wouldn't have been a problem. Without one, she could not hunt and could not eat. Without eating, she was too weak to hunt for the food she needed to recover.

That was what brought her to what she could only assume was death's door. Her skin sagged around the skeletal form that protruded beneath her skin as she lay beneath a tree, her breathing slow and steady but never promising another. Willow's throat was dry no matter how many times she tried to swallow. Dehydration was a bitch.

Somewhere nearby the feathers she stuck behind her ear had fallen to the ground, likely blown away by the wind. Willow couldn't focus on that now, though. She could only focus on staying alive, and even that was beginning to lose its appeal.