Mother: Valtie Carsine

Father: Thyclo Corra

---

She is the mother to no pup.
She holds loyalty to no pack for the rest of her days.
She holds the honorable rank of a rouge.
She is not bound by love to anyone for the rest of her life.
Who is she? Defined as Knife Corra, this is her story . . .


Storms scuttled the night when the dark pelted female was born to a white pelted female and a brown pelted male. The father looked on his newly born daughter id disgust as the mother looked to her new daughter with loving eyes. The two got into fights about if the daughter should be put to death or not, though, of course, the mother won. Her name was Valtie Carsine, name changed after she became bound to her mate, Thyclo Corra. The two were deeply in love, and the father grew to love his new dark pelted daughter. Though her eyes weren't open yet and her personality was yet to shine though, they granted her with the name of Isabel Deline Corra.

The pup had no time to open her eyes before the war came about. She opened those vibrant green eyes the day her mother's head was severed from her body… Blood thrown everywhere, the mother Isabel never got to know; dead. The father she never got to know; missing. Isabel was on her own; her mother's cranium torn from her body before the pup. What was she to do? A pup having no clue how to fend for herself, hungry, and hiding from the wars of wolves outside of her hiding bush; she was lost and alone. To her reluctance, her father had found her hiding in the bush. Though she didn't expect what he did… Thyclo was trying to kill her, jaws thrusting into the bush and snapping at the pup that could hardly walk. His blood drenched snout inches from Isabel's face.

Thankfully, a loner was watching the events of that day. He jumped from the perch he was settled on, "You there, leave that pup alone," he growled. Thyclo turned, snarling, "You dare tell me what to do with my daughter?" He snapped his jaws at the loner. Though, the loner only laughed, "you sir are an idiot; leave the girl be." He commanded, raising his hackles and snarling back to Thyclo. Isabel whined as the two began to fight. The loner killed Thyclo, looking to Isabel with soft eyes: regret was filled in his bright orange colored eyes. "It's me…your brother, Tile." He said gently as he slowly crawled to the bush. Isabel only stared, her eyes were... Not what one would expect after what she saw. To her, her father did that for no reason. To her, the wolf who murdered her mother deserved to be torn to bits. Morbid thoughts filled her cranium, and she felt this weird…surge of power in her.

Isabel stood to her paws, growling at Tile. "What's wrong with these wolves?!" She snapped. She sounded fully grown, already seeming to be aggressive. Her tone was sharp, like a knife. Tile backed up, "whoa, chill down there, Isabel. They're just pack rats." He said, bending down and nudging his sister. "C'mon, I should get you back to the rest of the pack rats..." He grumbled. Isabel shook her head, "I don't want to be with them!" She snapped turning and leaving in a huff. She never saw Tile again; and Tile didn't bother stopping her. Though, what she didn't know was, Tile watched after her all the time she was on her own. He'd kill a rabbit and leave it for her to find. He'd kill anything that was a danger within a fifty foot radius of his little sister. Isabel grew into a horror to packs, other loners, and anything that crossed her path. Tile was proud of her, having grown up to be a fine loner and obviously she could fend for herself, he left.

Isabel snooped around pack lands, watching how most argued, most stayed away from one another, most even ignored the pups. Over the time she spent alone, Isabel grew cold. Her heart turned. She didn't need anyone. She didn't need help from anyone. She didn't need love from anyone. All she wanted was to be left alone. And she made this clear to everyone she crossed.

After night in and night out of traveling, Isabel sometimes crashed in a pack's territory, just so she'd wake the next morning to a fight. After a while, she dropped the name Isabel, and changed her name to Knife. Her sharp tongue, and all that she went though, led her to leave the name her unknown mother gave her for something stronger. Made her believe it was to girly of a name for a loner like her. She actually became disgusted with the name. A family she never knew gave it to her. Why would she want that? Family never stays, family leaves! They all get up and go! Every pack Knife tried joining left her, left her with another scar in her head to turn her against pack life and pack rats.

She made her way into new lands in the lands of Fluorite. There, she only saw more packs torn away, they fell apart faster, left each other more. She saw no love. She saw no happiness but in those little pups that were always happy about something! Knife led herself to believe that no wolf could love, especially her. She started getting into more fights than usual, tearing other wolves' limb from limb if she could. She's ruthless. She gives no pity. Not to the blind, not to the mute. To her, they can get going in their own special way. They can do all the things she can, just in different ways.

Her life belongs to the life of a loner. The only thing she knows is hate, killing, blood stained pelts and teeth, and the horrified screams as she'd raid pack lands and do her evil deeds… Though, after a large, brutal fight with another loner, she was shown kindness by the female alphess, Kaala. Knife decided to take a chance with this pack, though she holds loner like customs, staying around the edges of the pack. Her goal now, stick with this pack, and become a Potis Strategus, a Warlord.

That, my dear readers, is the story of Knife Corra; the fae who knows not of love or family.

Appearance:
For all that she goes though; she manages to keep her pelt silky soft. She's branded with some of the most vibrant green eyes that make one think they're glowing in the night; branded with the white mane that cascades over her scarred left eye; branded with scars that line her body under her silky soft dark grey pelt. She owns a small, skinny frame which helps her with her own 'get-a-ways'. At first, she seems dainty and able to be snapped in half like a twig. Though, don't let this fool you, Knife is strong. She's never met anybody able to take her down without her being able to recover herself.