Author's note- I don't own Wolf's Rain but I do own Serena and Omicron and possible other original characters. I dedicate this story to my friend Meg. She absolutely loves Wolf's Rain. Anyway, enjoy!
December 7, 2155
I will begin this story but you may not believe me as I'm telling you this. I don't blame you ;sometimes I find it hard to believe myself. You may ask me why I'm writing this down ,aren't you? Well, it 's a record ...it is a record in case I do not survive this journey. This "record" is meant to be read by another's eyes in case I do not make it. It is meant to make you think about good and evil and people's views about this issue ,,,, the issue that has haunted all living creatures since the dawn of time.
My name is Rain and I am currently 17 years old. I have jet-black hair with blue streaks in it and hazel eyes with a tannish complexion . I consider myself ordinary-looking but my friend differs with me on that issue. I was born a wolf hunter's daughter and used to live in the snowy mountains in log cabin . I have a scar on my neck from a huge animal. I never saw the beast because it was late at night and there was no moon. My life was filled with the good and the bad. I barely remember my home now ever since I met him.
It was a cold day like any other . I awoke early and decided to go hunting to make money to be able to afford to buy food for my lunch since I was too poor to buy my own food in the city at anytime I felt like it. I never liked the city; it's so corrupt and dirty. But anyway, no one was there to say "Good morning!" or " Are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?" That's because my mother died when I was three and my dad died when I was 14 of frostbite; my dad was my only comfort. The mountains are very cruel to anyone who lives there. We used to hunt wolves and skin off their fur for money. But for some reason my dad hated wolves with a passion . He said it was because of the prophecy that one day wolves would make it to Paradise and all humankind will be killed. That kind of belief to me back then was a little out there. And if it was true , I realized that there was nothing any of us could do about it. If there world's gonna end ,then the world's gonna end. Plus, the wolves have never harmed me or my family in any way, as far as my knowledge goes. If I ever saw a wolf, I would never shoot it; that was my dad's job. I could never harm a thing. So as I was saying, I got my long range hunting rifle and short dagger to hunt for rabbits for their fur; rabbit fur doesn't rake in as a large profit as wolf fur but it's pretty close. It was cold out since the snow covered the ground, so I decided to wear my black-rabbit fur parka. The forest was misted over with an eerie mist. Mist makes it harder to hunt down the prey and sometimes wild animals try to hunt the hunter. I headed over to the barn where my Arabian black horse, Black Apocalypse, was stabled. After feeding him, cleaning and finally tacking him, I led him out of the stable and led him into the winter's wonderland.
I scanned the wooded scene before me to look for a friend of mine. Then .........I saw her; she is the second reason why I don't shoot wolves and a secret I kept from my father when he was alive. She came sprinting down the mountain side as silent as a rose petal falling toward the earth. Her fur was blacker than black and her eyes gleamed a beautiful gold. Her paws barely made an imprint in the snow. She has long running legs and a long snout with a powerful nose at the end. Yeah, you guessed it,,, she's a wolf. I swear any hunter (poacher in my definition) would love to hunt her down for her soft fur and her gleaming white teeth. But I make sure that doesn't happen . I will explain in a future entry as to why she is so special to me . Omicron (that's her name) always greets me with a happy yip and that day was no different. She wagged her tail furiously and licked my outstretched hand. " Ok, Omicron. Today, we work as a team like always. Let's hope we don't encounter any huge animals like a rabid bear or something. " She understood , like always. I didn't know how much irony dripped from my words but now when I look back I see how ironic they were.
I must stop writing. My hand is getting sore and we are moving again when the moon reaches the top of the sky. I will write more when I have the time.