What she hates the most is the rich, the snobby and the fortunate. Not because she's upset about her own short comings, but because they don't know the level of gratitude it takes to be proud when you have nothing.
Styli-anette has seen village, town and city, with many sorts of wealthy people, all because she has no sense of home.
Being an orphan since she was ten, she's learned to never get attached. Being unwanted because of the scales that shape her forehead, the bridge of her nose, shoulders and down her spine had taught her not to care.
Her mother called them beautiful scales, scales that shined emerald green and gold in the early sun light and a bitter auburn when the sun falls behind the mountains.
Styli-anette, she's learned to hide her face and stick to the forests' shadows and only visiting bordering towns. She'll follow the ravines, ridges, gorges, caverns, and rivers. She won't go into a town unless its a dire need, which rarely happens.
And when it does happen, Styli-anette finds that she makes a few friends and meets a few kindly faces.
Styli-anette has met several types of people in her travels from rangers(whom offered to take her under their teachings and kin), elderly farmers with children and grandchildren aplenty, black-smith's (whom offered her a dagger for protect and even inscribed it for her), to the worst type of people she's met, skin-shifters. Not even the dwarves were as crude, cold and uncaring as these Skin-shifters.
Now Styli-anette will not generalize all skin-shifters. Being that she is one, and she's met a handful on her travels that were kind and welcoming. It was the wealthy skin-shifters with a title and power that were cold and uncaring.
"Mistress!" Styli-anette hears a voice, a familiar one call her from the trees. She looks and sees a silhouette of a man on a branch watching her closely, she smiles, though its hidden by her dark hood she hands a gold coin to the elderly market lady and heads back into the trees, hearing distant cries of thank you's as she walks away.
Once in the cover of the thick forest trees she removes her hood and looks up into the offending branches "Now, Master Vernon, I thought we discussed not following me just the other 'morn." Stily-anette places her hands on her slim hips.
Vernon Boyd, a ranger and a skin-shifter that was in charge of watching and protecting Styli-anette when she first met the leader of these rangers. They were an odd bunch, made up of skin-shifters and humans, but kind and homing-coming nonetheless.
Vernon jumped from his branch and landed in front of Styli-anette, unimpressed she rolled her eyes.
"We did, mistress." He answers with a bemused semi-smile on his lips.
"I take it you didn't hear a word I said to you." Styli-anette said with a smile of her own, a greeting smile. She walked beside Vernon and headed into the deep forest, were their camp is hidden.
Vernon gave her a side-long look before he huffed and straightened his shoulders and stood high above Styli-anette's own head.
"You're too tall, Master Vernon. How ever does Miss Erica kiss you?" Styli-anette says ever so boldly. Because she's never had control of her words. She catches the stiffening of Vernon's shoulders and the quick beat of his heart, but soon he's back to his stoic self.
"Don't ask questions that don't involve you, Mistress." Says Vernon sternly. Which is a que that Styli-anette has learned means shut-your-lips-so-I-can't-even-hear-you-breath, she's spent enough time with him to know that he cares about her no matter what he says. He gently shoves his elbow against hers, playfully of course. Styli-anette smiles up at him.
"You are my favorite, Vernon."
"Its Boyd, Mistress."
"Its Stiles, Boyd."
They smile at each other before making it to their camp, where everyone is seated in different locations.
Mistress Erica was seated on her bedroll, kicking dirt into an already dying flame. Master Scott was hidden within his cloak, snoring loud enough that the birds fled the area. Master Ethan standing watch by a small river glancing over to nod at them, then turning back, Master Danny stood close by to Ethan, Stiles knew they were partners from the start, it was understandable(They took to Stiles like a daughter, she was okay with that.). Master Tilikum, (the head ranger, Stiles' rescuer and adoptive father) was leaning on a large tree trunk carving something out of a small log, nothing bigger then Stiles' own hand.
Vernon took his seat next to Erica, where she smiled up at him. Stiles watched with warmth that settled in her chest. A warm hand found her shoulder and she looked to see Tilikum, he's stone amber gaze and short breaded face, "We need to move west." Says Tilikum, his voice quiet and deep.
"West? Tili, that'll lead us into Brone." Stiles has history in Brone, a city ruled by a powerful family of Skin-shifters, it was a wealthy city with plenty for all its dwellers. God forbid you be an outsider looking for food and shelter for a night, "We can head east. It's longer bu-"
Tilikum's hand tightens on her shoulder, "Styli-anette." Stiles stopped short on her words, he lips clamping shut. Tilikum only calls her by her name when he's not in the mood to argue, not to mention he's to only one that can pronounce it correctly. Stiles sighs, there are many reason she hates Brone, but one will always out shine the other.
Now, Stiles lived on her own since she was ten years of age up until she met Tilikum. She was in her twenties then. "I've warned you about Brone, Tili. But if we must go there, then so be it."
Stiles wasn't excited, nor was she expected to be, "Aren't getting to old there are we Lass?" Erica called as she finished rolling up her bedroll. Stiles rolled her eyes because she is far from old, Erica is the second oldest of this company, with Boyd following short after being the ages of thirty and thirty-four.
Scott was the youngest, being the age of twenty, he's nothing but a child and Stiles' best friend. "I will never understand how all of you age." Danny called as he made his way to them.
"Skin-Shifters are younger, we don't really age and we don't die." Said Boyd as he settled his horse; Erica doing the same. Tilikum shook his head and went to ready his horse.
"How long have you been around Lass?" asked Danny, he's fingers playing with the ropes and ties of his bedroll.
"Lord help you if you'd asked my age." She laughed, she fiddled with her cloak and realized she was almost a century older then her companions, having seen mountains fall and raise, people die, wars start and end, and watching kingdoms fall till there was nothing left but askes and frame work from homes, ruins apon ruins. She was around much to long and she was much to old. "I've been around long enough, Master Danny." she answers blankly, all in due time, she thinks. Her eyes find Scott, still asleep on the ground, she nudged him with her foot and he woke with a start.
"I got it! I got it!" He shouted.
Everyone chuckled as he slowly came back from his dream, he looks up at Stiles and frowns, "Dreaming of the Lass back home are we?" Stiles said with a chuckle.
Scott grumbled and stood from where he lay, "She isn't just a Lass, Stiles. She's going to be my bride." Says Scott proudly.
"Any woman slow enough to marry you should be not to slow herself." Danny laughed as he mounted his horse. Everyone joined in the laughter, Scott continued to frown and grumble as he made his way to mount his horse.
"Cheer up." Stiles tells him, "We're headed to Brone."