Dead Eye felt the bitter chill in the early morning as she stepped out of her den. Fall was upon them and painful memories on which she repressed often peaked in her mind every year around this season. The time when she was only a young one and wore a different name; a name her father had given her that she buried, when she lost her eyesight and her father the same day. She let out a small sigh and lowered her head, her ears flatten as a memory jogged of her father's mauled body being discarded like a rag doll after that beast was done with it. She would had been next to meet the same fate if she had not escaped.
Dwelling for many years with guilt, incapable of saving her father and being left disabled as a punishment of her weakness. Dead Eye was lost and began to seclude herself away from the rest of the pack, she felt useless and she was torn with thoughts that it would be better if she left the pack. Her self worth was at an all time low and her heart was in complete shambles. To her all was lost and her existence waned on nothing but burdens for others. In her mind she was a festering stain in her pack.
It took the cries of the ill to snap her out from her own created abyss of despair. She began to help the healers. Seeing the beauty of caring for the ill and saving lives, she started to feel meaning for her existence.
She buried herself with knowledge of the plants used for medicine. She was fascinated on how many type of plants could be used and what their purposes were, she began to make mental maps in her brain of the locations the the plants, so that she could use her stored memory for others. For many months she spent a watchful eye on healers to gain their knowledge so that she could become a healer. When the day finally came and the Alpha approved of her position of being a healer she felt overjoyed and instead of celebrating, she quickly went out to gather supplies so that she could hurry back to tend to the ill at the sick dens. The sick dens became her sanctuary and helping others, be it something small as a pup scrapping its leg to something more serious like a fever she was ready to help.
One again Dead Eye felt a place in the pack. She felt needed. She was no longer a burden or a festering stain on the pack, she brought her knowledge of plants as a useful ability.
Little Bird
That was what her father named her, a name she chose to bury and forget when she could not hear him say it once more. Little Bird may not exist any longer but Dead Eye thrives and carries that name hidden in her locked memories.
WC - 509
