READ BEFORE STORY: Ok, I wrote this around episode 8. Before Quent leaves Blue, and before she actually meets the flower maiden. The Bold print paragraphs are what Blue is Thinking, and how she feels about the entire situation. I hope you enjoy! Please give me Comments! I need to know how I can fix my writing!

I am Blue

Mongrel? No. Mutt? No.

Just Blue.

I sit again at the edge of a doorstep, waiting for him to stumble out and let us return to quest we sauntered upon so many years ago. I was just a pup then, as was he. The day we watched our loving home burn, along with the rest of the pack I dubbed my own, he promised to kill to perpetrators whom he thought was responsible. He's wrong. But I don't have the heart to tell him. I've no heart at all. The female had been nice. Nice enough to take me home when others called me Bitch. When others called me freak. I wandered onto the steps of a church once. Bloodied, battered, reckless, and hopeless. I wanted sanctuary. I was just a pup. I still want sanctuary. I'm no longer a pup. Just a puppet.


The Hybrid sat Tied, confined, and to an old lamppost outside of a bar named Ragged Charlie's. She stared at the other side of the street, and looked almost invisible, because the streetlamp was flickering, along with the lightning that flashed in the sky. It was going to rain soon, she knew this. In fact, she felt it beginning to drizzle slightly against her waterproof coat of solid black. There was a sinister look in her eyes, orbs unflickering at the light bonded off of them, like it was scared of her, and wouldn't touch the devil wolf. She was used to this treatment, and sometimes she felt like a black cat. Tail tapping at the ground lightly, she flared her delicate nostrils at the soft driblets that fell onto it. Flicking her ears back, Blue hunkered down to lay on the cold concrete. How she hated to lie on this wretched stuff. To her it felt like she was sprawled out on a metal table, to be prodded at. Shaking a regal head, slinging water in every direction, she gazed upward at the sky. She didn't fear water dropping into her eyes, she knew it was scared of her deadly orbs as well. Blue could see the moon, if not the outline, just barely see it. Fur raising slightly, she pushed it down. The moon did something to her, made her fear the city, the concrete, the human male, Made her fear herself. It Cried out to her, or perhaps for her. How she wished her voice could sing to it as well, could call to it as it did to her. Weep as the clouds did. For her

I am Blue

This is not my color mind you, but something about me is blue. Sinister, Mysterious. Does this intrigue you? It doesn't to me. Sometimes I ask myself, as I lay patiently at the doorstep, why i do the things I do? The things I did? I haven't a grudge, just the scent. I help him produce so much evil. But I lay the devil dog. Do I not? I am the devil dog. Am I not? I hope my male never learns of my secret, my power, and the drop of goodness that still lies within me. The drop that protects him. But who's to say I don't want to be free? Is this my punishment? To kill my brethren for the like of a species that I despise? That I loathe? He feeds me, He loves me. I don't leave him because I am all he has, He doesn't leave me because He is all I have. Together I feel a lethal balance. But those wolves that he's chasing. The once that glare at me with hope, Dignity, and pride. They are looking for paradise. And they have the key, the flower. The one that clogs my senses, my hate with a feeling I've never felt before. Like I belong.

Like I am not Blue

But the Wolf knew that she would be the cause of the pack's death. It was her job. Was her life. and even with the maiden and her hope. She was too clouded, to scared, to care much about what she thought would say. Snorting loudly at the torrential downpour that now covered the moon, she soon huddled against the wall, Concerning feet touching her delicate muzzle with tender claws of ebony silk. Watching the street splashing with waves of now running rain, blue curled tighter. Her male would stay indoors for the rain, and leave her outside. How she despised him when he did things like this. She felt as if he soul purpose was to make her life miserable, despite the fact the he is misery itself. And he seemed to love company. The streetlight had completely gone out now, and had quit its annoying flicker. Only the light the creeped from underneath the doorway, and the constant flash of lightning lit the alleyway of Ragged Charlie's. Soft whimpers escaping her muzzle, Blue caught whiffs of her own smell, the scent of wet wolf and dog, Wet sorrow and pain. Drenched with the likeness unfound, she soon found the sharp pain in her neck too severe to ignore. Standing, The Fae shook vigorously and tried to reach to awning the grappled over the doorway to the bar. Only to find that her leash was too short. And so She sat underneath a broken Streetlamp, so sorry, so wrong. A freak bitch with soul purpose to slaughter her own. Head hung low in despair. She couldn't help but feel so blue.

I am Blue

Helpless? No. Hopeless? No.

Just Blue.