I don't own Wolf's rain- although I wish I did. xD. Now, here is the history of my character- PLEEAASSEE review. By the way- if you want to see an image of her, search 'Jenna, Balto' in Google.
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One of my first memories is my mother's body slumping over me, protecting me from a man with a gun in his hands. My damp fur plastered to my face, sweating with the heat of mother's body. Then a gunshot, and her body jerked- then went slowly cold. I can still hear that gunshot today if I close my eyes. The man didn't see me, but I was in a fatal position, for I was a helpless pup. Nothing else.
I cried for hours and nobody came. After a day, I lost my voice. I needed milk! But I was still trapped under my beautiful white mother's dead form. Chewing desperately and weakly at the plant my face was pressed into; I felt a sudden burst of energy. That plant was sage- a revitalising herb that gave me the strength to howl miserably.
Luck. I've had it all my life, and if I didn't, then I would have died that. For at that moment, a young girl called Hitomi found me screaming, and gathered me up in her arms, feeding me with milk from her flask. She had been going on a picnic, and had ventured further than she was allowed.
For the next five years, she kept me a secret, feeding me scraps. To her, I was luck herself, and so she named me Lucky. I answered to it, but that was not my name. No, my name was my own. Not Hitomi's. I was eternally grateful to her, for she had ensured that I grew up into a fine adult. For a wolf, I had the strangest colour fur. It was Red, and I had a white face. Sort of like a husky. I was the colour of rust, quite nice looking if I did say so myself. My human illusion had dull pink hair- maybe it was the mixture of red and white from my parents. Who knew?
But Hitomi found out eventually what I really was. I didn't know how she found out. I wasn't the big dog she had thought- I was a fully-fledged wolf, and she was terrified of me. She drove me out, and I was on the streets. I lived rough for a few years, passing myself off as a prostitute in large cities, a hiker in small villages.
I scrounged and stole, charming and threatening for whatever food I could get. After a while, I became talented enough as a thief to become a con artist, working with various gangs. I knew I was a wolf- but humans often mistook me for a husky. So I swallowed my pride, and lived with an old lady. She relied on me completely to protect her, and I did. I was nearly fifteen years of age when my old lady died.
Once again, I was thrust into the cruel alleyways and tunnels of the city, injuring and killing to eat. After a while, I became depressed, and wished desperately to find another wolf. Little did I know how effectively that wish would be granted. It happened the night after I had indulged into a little too much alcohol.