A/N: Okay, thank you to everyone reading this! Please review, favorite, follow!

"Oh! What a treasure! What a beauty!"

"She's only a penniless orphan, if you can imagine. Picked her up at the orphanage on the edge of a nearby town."

"No! Really?"

"Yeah. So, sale or not...?"

"Yes, yes, she'll fit our purposes nicely."

"We've got quite a few offers on her, so you might have to pay a little extra..."

"A little extra!? This is almost enough for two!"

"What can I say? If you don't want to pay, I can just take up the offers of another, which promised this much and a little more..."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll pay."

"I thought so."

"She's not being very respectful. Spits and bites and howls whenever we come close."

"Got fire, that one. All the better. The others were too weak to handle it."

"Can't I at least teach her a small lesson...?"

"Idiot! We can't put a scratch on her until the ritual begins. She needs to be PERFECT."

"Ugh, fine. But I tell you, she's not going to go down easy..."

"I know. I'm counting on it."

Raven knew nothing beyond the filth of her environment, the unyielding steel metal bars of her cage and the cold floor like ice beneath her bare feet.

Her name wasn't really Raven. That was merely a nickname given to her by the handlers because of her hair, darker than a raven's wing.

Her handlers were mostly men, but sometimes women, bringing small bowls of food scraps and little cups of water to momentarily quench the irksome hunger that gnawed at her all day long. It wasn't just hunger for food. It was hunger for freedom. For liberation. For the blue skies above her head and the green grass beneath her feet. To jump and run and laugh like she used to, before the orphanage.

There was no way to tell time in the everlasting darkness. The hours all felt the same, filled with the misery of a caged animal longing to be free while people pressed their ugly faces against the door of her prison, gawking and thinking and making notes on their little clipboards.

So to release a little of the madness in her heart, she screamed, scratched, and howled at them, biting and spitting whenever someone dared to slip their hand through the bars.

They didn't touch her anymore.

But one day they brought a woman different from the rest in. And everything changed.

"Oh, you poor little thing."

Raven looked up with dead eyes to see a woman, a breath-takingly beautiful woman, with sweet brown doe-like eyes and black hair, darker than night. A dark, burn-like scar ran from the corner of her left eye to the bottom of her cheek, but somehow the imperfection didn't mar her beauty.

She put a small, child-like hand through the bars, and Raven didn't bite or spit at it like you usually would've. She just shied away, trembling, suspicious of anything that seemed to fare well for her.

"You poor child," The woman cooed, her voice soft and maternal, flowing over Raven's tortured ears. It was like music to hear a kind voice, a friendly tone. She mentally stored it in her brain to listen to later. "Stuck inside that cage all the time, day in and day out, week after week. Do you want to walk around a little? Outside?"

All suspicions were now cast into the sea of happiness and hope that Raven now felt. Outside? It was like a ray of sunshine had managed to worm its way into the dank, dark cell. It was a subject foreign to her. How would it feel? How did it feel before? She could not remember.

"Obviously you do. Come." The woman stuck a key into the lock and then swung the door open with a grandiose manner, smiling slyly.

Raven emerged timidly, wincing slightly as the bones in her back realigned and snapped back into place with a soft crack. She stretched out her arms to their full extent and almost smiled.

But then she saw her hands, the fingertips raw and the palms calloused and scarred from the endless scratching at the floor and the ceiling and the bars. Her nails were ground down to next to nothing.

Her hands hurt.

"Do you want something for the pain?" The woman asked, watching her closely. "It hurts, doesn't it? I can help you with that."

Oh, that voice, that sweet, musical voice. Everything she said made sense, fell into place like pieces of a puzzle, making Raven think, 'Why didn't I think of that?'

Raven nodded.

"Then come here, darling. I can help you."

'She can help me. I didn't think that anyone could actually do it, but she can help me.'

"Lay down here." The woman patted a small bed-like table in the middle of the room.

Unease shifted in Raven's gut. Her instincts screamed, 'Don't listen to her!' but her heart yearned for help, for friendliness. And this woman was nothing but friendly.

Raven lay down on her stomach, stilling the discomfort inside, assuring herself that everything would be fine.

"Close your eyes." The woman instructed and Raven complied.

In the background, Raven heard a small sizzling sound and the crackle of a fire, as if someone was cooking. She could feel the woman's cold hands on her back, right below her neck, between her shoulder blades.

And then there was a flare of burning pain, and Raven was screaming, screaming, screaming. Needles were being shoved into her spine, red-hot needles, deep into her back and along her arms.

What seemed to be flames licked their way down her back, burning her, causing her to writhe and howl and scream, scream, scream.

Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, Raven heard the woman give a dark chuckle.

"Sh, child. No need to be such a baby. "No pain no gain", after all."

Raven could barely see her reflection in the water. She had been re-confined to the cold cage again, and it was like the branding had never taken place.

Except the mark was still there.

In the murky water scarcely illuminated by the sliver of candlelight that spilled in from the bottom of the door, Raven could see that her flesh had been burned, the skin fused and twisted in places where it should not have, causing black marks going down her back all the way up to her shoulders and along her arms. The brands were ringed by tortured dark red flesh, angry and still prickling with pain. She could not see the shape they had tried to burn into her back.

Abandoning her repetitively furtive attempts to force water down her throat, Raven dumped the bowl of liquid onto her back instead, cooling it off from the branding fires. She could almost imagine it sizzling.

The door creaked open. No, no, not so soon, not again.

"Child? Child?"

That woman, called "Piper" by the others. Soft footsteps down the stone stairs. Raven retreated to the darkest corner of the cage she could find, away from the door, trying hard not to shake.

"Oh, child, still crying over that wound? Come, come, I thought you were stronger." Piper chided, lip curling into a smirk. She sounded as if she was scolding a kid for whining over something as trivial as a scraped knee or elbow.

She opened the door and reached a hand in for her, and Raven tried to bite it, scratch it, do anything that could help her escape from those grasping white fingers, but all of her strength was drained. Every time she tried to move, pain raced down her spine and along her arms. Everything ached.

Piper dragged her out none-too-gently, and Raven gave not a sign of resistance, not a sign that she was alive at all.

Fitting; she might as well be dead. It certainly felt like it.

Soon enough, she was face down on the bed/table again, her back exposed to the cold air.

She felt the tip of the icy knife digging ever-so-slightly into her back, tracing the still painful burns.

"Oh, now let's see if you're strong enough. You took yesterday well: but what about today and the days to come? The pain you are feeling now will seem like a minor discomfort compared to what is coming."

The blade dug harder, and Raven cried out. It was enough to hurt and draw blood, but not enough to kill her.

Then Piper dragged the knife along the brands, tracing its way through the tortured skin.

It hurt.

God, it hurt.

Blood ran down her side.

It became a routine. Everyday, with Piper, sometimes alone, with no one to hear her scream, and sometimes with an audience that craned its neck to get a better look.

They were all sick.

'Why can't anyone hear me? Why can't anyone just hold out a hand for me to take? 'Cause I can't bear this any more, not for much longer.'

A small exclamation from the crowd.

'It hurts. Why does it hurt so much?'

Burning pain.

'Can anyone help me? Truly help me?'

Piper was chanting.

'Mother, father, God, anyone.'

There was a gasp of surprise and sick delight from the crowd.

"Anyone. PLEASE ANYONE, JUST HELP ME!" Raven realized that she was screaming it aloud, and that the entire room had gone silent.

There was the soft padding of foot against stone.

"Well, well, well. What an exciting event this is."

A voice, colder than the air.

Piper managed to speak, in a croaky voice that was totally against her character. "It's actually true. The legend is actually true."

"The legend? Oh, that superstition. Yes, it's true. Happy that you managed to summon me?"

"Extremely." Piper sounded absolutely delighted.

Raven saw out of the corner of her eye a dark figure, shrouded in shadow and darkness, a void.

She dragged her arm to the edge of the table and raised it weakly.

"Help." She choked out. "Help me."

Piper threw a look of disgust in her direction, ridicule etched in the sharp lines of her face. "Ignore the girl, m'lord. She is the sacrifice." She was almost ugly in her scorn.

"This is the sacrifice?" The void strode over to Raven's side, and the latter shivered. His breath seemed to chill her right to the bone. "What a tiny little master this is."

Piper gasped in horror. "You can't mean-!"

"Oh, but I do. You didn't do your research right. 'From pain and despair shall the demon rise/ Born from true suffering and deceptions and lies/ It shall bestow upon their master true talent and power/ To serve them and guide them in their darkest hour.' That was the covenant. This little girl seems to fulfill all of the requirements."

"But you can't!" Piper hissed venemously, poison heavy in every syllable. "I raised you! I summoned you! You are MINE."

"I don't think so." The man replied cooly, smoothly, unaffected by her harsh words.

Raven suddenly found her voice and started to scream, barely aware of what she was saying. All she knew was that she wanted it to end. "GIVE IT TO ME! I DON'T CARE WHAT HAPPENS, JUST GIVE ME THE POWER TO KILL THEM ALL! TO RIP THEM APART AND DESTROY THEM FOR WHAT THEY DID TO ME! GIVE IT TO ME!"

"NO!" Shouted Piper over her. "YOU BELONG TO ME! I AM YOUR MASTER!"

The void-man laughed out loud, and his laugh was like winter rain. Ignoring Piper, he turned to Raven. "My, my, what a feisty little girl. No mystery why she has survived this far." He started to chant.

The audience was frozen in... fear? Apprehension? Raven didn't know. All she knew was the euphoria filling her up.

Strong. She felt strong.

She didn't remember how she did it. All she remembered was the bodies and the blood, the carnage and the massacre. All of them were dead, their bodies shredded and ripped apart.

Raven panted in the middle of the room, taking deep shuddering breaths. She was drenched in blood.

The humanoid figure was chuckling. "Impressive. The capacities of my power in the finest of vessels. What is your name, child?"

Raven found the courage to speak. "I am Raven."

He chuckled again. "I should've guessed, from the brand marks they used to summon me. No last name?"

"Barely a first name."

"Then, Raven No-Last-Name, I hereby name you, forever and for all, the vessel of the power of me, the Hunter, the Predator, the Lycan, the Wolf. You are now my follower, a Lycanthrope."

Raven soon learned that there was a difference between raw power and polished skill. What she had was the former. What she needed was the latter.

Lycan- the shadow man- disappeared soon after dubbing her, leaving her alone in a world she was barely familiar with.

As soon as she emerged from the building, blinking in the watery winter sunlight, she found out that she was in the middle of absolutely no where. Snowy forests stretched out in every direction, no path, not even a little bit of worn vegetation; the snow covered it all.

Itachi found the girl buried in a snow bank, shivering, breaths fogging up the air in little wisps of cloud.

She was a tiny little thing, no older than Sasuke- about six years old. Her garments were threadbare and torn, and soaked with... blood? Was that blood?

Her dark hair stood out in vivid contrast to the winter wonderland around them, tangled and matted. Her skin was translucently pale, as if she had never seen the sun, the same shade everywhere except for underneath her eyes, where it was ringed with the fatigue of many sleepless nights. Her form was almost skeletal; her distended stomach spoke of little or no food for a long period of time.

And then he noticed the brand marks, and his heart ached with remorse for the girl.

Curling, twisting, still edged with angry flesh, intertwining itself along her arms and back and neck, forming the unmistakable wings and body of a raven, poised in flight.

A/N: Good? Not good? Tell me what you think!