Biography Samara and Bronsun's story was one that could be considered remarkably tragic. Samara had outlived all eighteen of her pups. She was considered cursed by those who dwelt in the Dragonbone Mountains. The Dragonbone pack's furs tended to be whites, greys, blacks, and on rare occasions dark browns. Samara was born normal, as any of her siblings. Her mother was prodigiously fertile. The Dragonbone Pack grew by numbers. However, upon reaching puberty Samara developed a number of light-brown patterns that stood out against the greyscale mountains. She could not be a hunter, but hope was found in her ability to mother offspring, none believing her unfortunate coloring would pass down. Samara did her duty. She never loved her lovers, it was unnecessary. She did, however, love her children. Though they did not have their mother's brown markings, it seemed they were cursed nonetheless. The pups died at birth or shortly after, they fell to diseases in their days roaming around the pack, one was carried off by an eagle, another died by the cold of harsh winter. For five years Samara endured loss. Her pups were all from different sires, so the defect was to be found in the mother. Still, if she could not be a mother or a hunter, she had no place...so she persisted. On her 7th year, Samara gave birth again. One pup survived and grew up to be the strongest of them all. He reached adulthood and became a warrior for the Dragonbone pack. Samara was terrified of losing her son, the son who she thought had been brought to her after so long. However, Mordin fell through the ice, and drowned beneath it. His body was never recovered. To be denied even visitation to the resting place for her son was too much to bear. Rumors that Samara was a rot, a defective specimen that comes out of all large sibling groups. She was listless for days. The reputation of her mother was all that kept Samara from being pushed from the pack. They were a large pack, full of power to control such a large domain, but resources could not be allocated for her. Nor would Samara's pride let her live off their generosity. A message came to the Dragonbone Pack that Commander Aurelius was seeking a Mistress for his grandson--as he had found one in his own mate, Desdaemona, years ago. Samara was summoned to be sent with him. She paid respect at the lake Mordin lost his life as they passed by, thinking of the other seventeen small bodies in the caverns of mountains. It took strength to say goodbye. So Samara returned to House Bron. She did not know if she would return to the Dragonbone pack once her obligation was fulfilled. Aurelius promised relics to return to contribute to the Dragonbone pack should she wish to return. Samara found companionship with Desdaemona, who had trained her to be a Mistress before she had departed. Samara could not believe it was with Murlowe that she had her first child out of duty, and with Aurelius for love. She had not expected Keeta to be so kind to her. Bronsun was hardly liked among the pack, nor was Luanfyre. When Samara arrived to Bronsun's cave she overheard Luanfyre discussing the mating with Bronsun. She discovered all of Bronsun's history with his first mate--of the Red Wastes--of children he had not found worthy--and of the adopted child he did not care for. A pup that would be lost. Samara was furious beyond measure, her pride wounded at being a second attempt and an improvement. If the Red Wastes could not provide Bronsun with a healthy pup, what luck might she have? Luanfyre left them. Bronsun was in haste to commit the deed, and Samara fulfilled it with lifeless eyes, maintaining her dignity in silence. No words passed between them for many weeks that followed. She was pregnant, and Bronsun's family was pleased. Being pregnant never had been the problem. In her heart, Samara secretly yearned for Bronsun to feel her pain for his failings to appreciate any pup under his charge. However...things became strange between them. Often, Bronsun would simply come to dwell in her presence, as though he enjoyed the quiet and the freedom from obligations. But she noticed the way his claws traced the grass, the agitation and restlessness in his eyes. After discussing the matter with Desdaemona, she realized what it had been all along. Bronsun felt as useless as Samara had in her pack. There seemed no place for him, no way to bring pride to his pack. He was shadowed by greater wolves. In truth...Samara wondered if he could not please his father and grandfather, why he thought he would be a worthy figure to look up to. The understanding softened her heart. Even if Bronsun saw her only as a means of gaining honor, she saw his true heart was worth something. In the cave that Aurelius, Desdaemona, Luanfyre, and Bronsun shared, Samara gradually eased close to the younger wolf. There were not so many words that passed between them, but the nights were no longer spent alone. For now...they served each other.
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| Personality Samara gave birth at night by the fire. She felt the greatest fear of her life. The labor had lasted days. Samara knew that the Dragonbone pack had not told Aurelius of her true history--boasting only of the number of pups she delivered, and never their untimely fates. Desdaemona and Scholaras worked together to try to ease her pain. As a first pup, a son, wiggled out--and was found stillborn, Samara knew it was happening again. Her weak body attempted to change fate, exerting another effort--and as if the gods were watching, or whoever had cursed her--another son dropped from her womb. He looked like Bronsun, golden, and precious beyond words. Hours passed while he attempted to nurse, but that fleeting happiness died when he stopped moving...and was not revived. It was night then, that Samara begged the gods for mercy. She would never bear another pup, she swore it. She would do anything for one pup to be freed of her curse. The Lord of Night's wife, a goddess of the dark, heard Samara. She captured the soul of the embers, of the dying part of the fire, and breathed life into them once most. As they glowed, so did the life of the final pup. The goddess whispered the name to be bestowed upon her daughter, and Samara heard her, The final pup would be named Nyx Embers. She looked nothing like her father, save for his icey eyes, eyes like the stars. That was enough. Samara finally realized it was not a 'rot' that grew upon her own furs. It was embers, which only had to be brought back to life.
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