Biography
Unnamed. 42, her number. It had become her name, in the three years that the female had been alive. But her life, was it even worthy of being called one? For she had been used too long, thrown away when her pups were considered "inferior" or "ugly", until all that remained of the innocent pup that never really existed was a hollow shell that broke at the slightest breeze. She had escaped, though. She was not part of that life anymore, she refused to be called a pup-producing machine. Even if Number 42 was not much better of a name.
Exhausted, the female picked her way carefully through the underbrush. Briars tore at her paws and at her swollen stomach, her latest litter that she would not give her masters the pleasure of seeing and deciding if the pups were fit to survive. She was her own wolf now, even if leaving her "home" had taken every ounce of courage and willpower that she possessed in her frail, stunted frame. But now she was alone, having never been taught to hunt, to fish, to survive... She had never been taught which dens were the best to sleep in and how to tell a fox's scent from a beaver's scent. So it was with utter and complete bewilderment and mild panic that the unnamed female faced the harsh world ahead of her. How was it that she thought she could raise a litter of pups on her own when it seemed unlikely at this point that she'd survive until the birth?
Breeding Info
N/A
| Personality
For years, she tried to make do on her own. Her pups from that first year were born healthy, but soon after they succumbed to starvation. That was the first true blow to 42's sanity. She struggled after that, struggled to remind herself to eat. Struggled to find companionship, and struggled to keep it when she did find them.
She found one wolf, though. From him, she got the name Ashe. He was her comfort in a very dark time, sweet Vol. He was wonderful, so kind to her, ever patient with her. He taught her how to hunt, how to dig dens, how to do all the things that proper wolves did. But like all good things, her time with Vol came to an end. He said he had lived a good, full life, he said not to mourn for him.
But Ashe... She could only think of how she had not lived a full life with him. She'd only had a few short years with him, the love of her life, and now he was leaving her. Just as cold and alone in an unforgiving world as she was before she met him.
After he passed, she reverted to her old ways. She began referring to herself as a number again, seeking out solitude instead of company. Occasionally, she would find one of her pups, and stay with them for only a short while before she was on her way again.
Eventually, she, too, grew old and frail. Her final resting place remains unknown, as the animals likely got to her body before anyone found her. Anonymous, the mark she left on the world small and insignificant, she faded into memory, and then to nothingness.
Preferences
42 was a strange creature. Her true personality was known only to Vol, and he's just as dead and gone as she is.
She loved the snow, but hated the cold. Her favorite food was probably squirrel, and her least favorite was anything related to birds or feathers. She was terrified of storms and loud noises stressed her out. She had a deep love for pups, perhaps because she lost so many litters of her own.
Special Skills
Vol:
https://wolfplaygame.com/wolf.php?id=1544876
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Spring 
Day Weather: 
