Silently and stealthily, they ran. White ghosts in a vertical sea of greens and whites. The leaves that they trod upon beneath their feet are barely scathed as they dash through the forest. Golden eyes burning with determination, muscles driving them onward towards their prey. Following scents and footsteps that are barely seen on the ground, they traverse Ionia's forests. Then, they slow and stop. Their feet noiselessly moving closer and closer to their prize. The body they create disperses, as each one of them positions themselves around the target. In the clearing, the golden eyes focus on what they have been searching for.

A toppled wagon lies on the snow covered ground, and three brown huddled figures sit close together by a withering fire. A man, a woman, a child. Their faces show no sign of hope, no sign of life. Skin as pale as the snow they sit upon, they wait for death's cold embrace. With no food, no water, no transportation, survival is hopeless.

The winters of Ionia are harsh. Bare skin is instantly pierced by the intense frost. Only the barren icy lands of Freljord match its potency. Everything in the landscape is affected. All animals feel the price. And the foxes that hunt in the woods, they are the ones who feel it most. Usual prey is hibernating, warm in their caves, forcing these cunning hunters to search for any meat they can find. If they could hibernate, snuggle together warmly, sleeping through the harsh coldness of the outside world, they would have. But this is the fox's curse. They can't.

Unfortunately for the starving travelers, they have no knowledge of Ionia's winters, or the white, hungry predators that are targeting them. Closer and closer the foxes creep. The leader of the group, one with a scar down his right eye, nods once. In unison, the creatures spring from their hiding places upon the poor family. The humans have no time to react, and even if they did, they wouldn't have survived anyway.

In the blink of an eye, the family is nothing but lifeless corpses lying on the ground. Warm, fresh food. The foxes take the bodies and drag them into the forest. There would be no eating out in the open. You can never know what lurks with you in these forests. Working together, the foxes finally arrive at the mouth of a small cave. Releasing the meal from their mouths, they gather around, allowing their snouts to take in the delicious smells that come with fresh meat. The leader steps forward, and begins to speak.

"Brothers. Once again, you have proved yourselves worthy of food in this harsh time. Let us feast upon this flesh and nourish ourselves from the physical strain that we have been enduring."

All at once, the foxes grab the bedraggled clothing of the dead travelers, baring their pale skin. It was time to feast.

They eat heartily, not wasting a morsel. In the middle of the meal comes the sound of light footsteps, an approaching fox. Nobody reacts or moves. They roll their eyes. They know who it is. It's the leech.

She was an abnormality. No other fox that dwells within this forest home was like her. Her fur was white and silky, unlike all the others, who had course, grayish-white fur. Her eyes burned a more golden-gold. Her ears were black, differing from the white that covered her body. Probably the strangest trait of hers were her nine, soft and fluffy tails. Two, three, maybe even five tails was a normal occurrence, but there was never nine. And nine extremely fine tails at that. Nobody else had tails as beautiful as hers. Especially nine of them.

Yes, a strange fox was she. But it wasn't her fine fur, or her nine tails that made her stand out. It was her mind. She thought differently, felt differently. This trait separated her from everybody else. The other foxes, even her own parents. She was the most beautiful fox in Ionia, but never has she had a mate.

Of course, a reason of her being a pariah were her strange outlooks and thoughts, but surely her arrogant and spoiled attitude towards everything must have added to that. But of course, her attitude was rather fitting, considering she was the daughter of the pack's leader.

But there was something else that only she possesses. Something nobody else knows about, and if they did, they would surely excommunicate her with more potency. She had always wanted to be human.

She didn't exactly know why, but ever since the first time the pack had killed a lone woman walking through the woods, she had been interested in these creatures. Long lithe limbs, flowing hair sprouting from their heads, soft skin. So many beautiful things that she wished to have.

After every murder of a human, or when they were passing a village, she would always stray behind and observe. Observe their mannerisms, their possessions, anything that was human. That was always why she never helped the pack hunt. She would always stay behind, spying on these interesting creatures.

Just earlier that day, she had been up in the village the family of three was headed for. She had watched her favorite activity of these beings. She had watched two of them mate. She always found it interesting, beautiful. Two bodies melting into each other, sharing love and desire. That day, she was in the middle of watching when she heard her pack executing the hunt. Knowing this meant it was time to eat, she walked away from the observations, and let her snout lead her to her pack.

Rounding the corner to the mouth of the cave, she arrives. Nine tails whisking back and forth, a smug grin worn on her face.

Her father looks up and ceases his feasting. The fierce battle-born leader changes in an instant. A grin spreads across his blood stained mouth as he walks over to his daughter.

"Ahri! You finally made it. Well as you can see we have all just begun to eat. Care to join us?"

His tone is overly happy and cheerful. Almost as if he is intoxicated.

"No thanks father. Just please save the livers."

She winks.

"You know they're my favorite."

Her father beams.

"Of course honey!"

He makes his way over and tells everyone his daughter's request. They all silently comply, obviously annoyed.

Now, the pack leader knows everybody's attitude against his daughter. He just simply ignores it. He loves his daughter with all of his heart. She is his pride and joy. His only memory of his deceased wife.

With the pack still busy eating (and deliberately ignoring her), Ahri makes her way through the forest, back to the toppled wagon. The wagon had been traveling on a back road leading to a small town, but the snow and ice overcame the strong vehicle, causing it to fall over on its side. The horse was loosed and its footprints are indented into the snow. There was no chasing it. It would be in the town by nightfall.

Cautiously Ahri treads slowly towards the wagon. Red stains the snow, a result of the ambush earlier. She approaches the wooden vehicle and sniffs with her snout. Her curious eyes widen as she follows unknown scents into the canvas-covered carriage. Slipping inside, she sees various articles of clothing scattered everywhere. Empty glass jars, jewelry, books and all sorts of possessions lay all over the place. The family was apparently moving, most likely away from the violent war between the Ionians and the Noxians that was ravaging the countryside.

She walks silently among the fallen objects and steps on something. Looking down at her paw she sees it is a brown stuffed bear. She stares at it for a while, bends down and sniffs it. Then her ears twitch as she hears her father calling her. Giving the bear one last sniff, she then turns and struts away, her head full of visions of humans and stuffed animals.