PLAYED BY WOLFBERRY - PLOTTER - TRACKER

Full Name | Wrathmange
Nicknames | Mange, Frostwitch,
Age | 4
Pack | Redfrost
Rank | Head
Gender | Female
Sexuality | Homosexual/Lesbian
Mate | X
Offspring | X

Species/Breed | Eastern Wolf x Red Wolf

Wrathmange is a pale thing, with a coat primarily the color of an opaque shadow. Her silvery grey and off-white sable fur is accented with pinkish tan markings that swirl through her coat and break up the monotony. She stands on four large off-white paws which carry her slightly mutilated but fluffy body forward with confidence and grace.
Likes

• Flowers
  
• Bears
• Rivers
• Mountains
• Skulls

Dislikes

• Pregnancy
  
• Heat
• Warling
  
• Sanctimony

Strengths

• Intelligent
  
• Driven
• Organized
  

Weakness

• Deranged
  
• Fanatical
• Self-loathing
  

Dreams

• Be torn to shreds as the ultimate sacrifice to the One
  
• Meet the One
  

Fears

• Mundane death
• Warling

Generation | 1
Parents | Sanger x Warling
Siblings | X
Other family | if any

The mountains are a wild place, with perils around every corner and isolation for miles. It was within the dank, dark maze of a cavern leading deep inside a mountain that danger found Sanger, a vivacious young wolf out with a scouting party. She was caught in a blizzard, separated from her fellow hikers, and had retreated into the cave only to begin exploring and get lost in the labyrinthine twists and turns. Cloaked in shadow and armed with a silver tongue, a beast named Warling came swiftly upon Sanger as she splashed through ice cold puddles in the dark. He offered her his knowledge and his aid, promising to help her out of the cave which he currently called his home in exchange for a favor whenever he should ask for it. Warling was cunning and manipulative, an exile from a land far different and far more untouched than the one he and Sanger inhabited now. He told Sanger that he was run from his home and had been living by the skin of his fangs for some time now, lonely and sad. He taught her how to live in the cavern, but kept her hungry and weary and afraid with the constant concern that he would leave her to find her own way if she messed up, and the ever-present danger of encountering the beast that also lived within its many interweaving halls. He was only as nice to her as he needed to be, and when he was, it was most certainly not out of kindness.

When Sanger was finally out of the cave and back on the path to her pack, she was forever changed. No longer was she able to go out on runs with the rest, much preferring to stay in the safety of the pack land for fear of getting lost once more. She could not speak for weeks after her return, and even when she finally relaxed enough, she would not recount her experience. As the days wore on, she began to display obvious signs of pregnancy, and her pack allowed her the freedom to choose her fate. Everyone had assumed she was dead or simply ran off for good, they had already done their grieving. She had almost no place in the pack as the wolf she had become, and though they never explicitly said so, Sanger knew she couldn't remain. She decided to give birth, but to then be sacrificed so her essence may disperse and her flesh be offered as tribute. So were born six small pups, whose weaning came early but whose life was now in the paws of the pack.

Of all the pups born around the time she was born, Mange was the most avid believer in the ways of the pack. She was the first to choose a name for herself in the Naming Ceremony, and the first to volunteer to participate in the Ritual of Pleasing when she was old enough.  She led the younglings to various small victories in pseudo-hunts, and she had a great deal of vision for the direction of the pack's progression as they migrated south to accommodate the growing numbers. Given her dedication and drive, when the time came once more to prepare for the death of the Head, she was unanimously selected to lead the pack in the old leader's place and her training began.

However, the glow and happy nervousness of being asked to head the pack to which she had dedicated herself was interrupted shortly; a large lone wolf approached the borders of the land, one day, and was granted audience with Wrathmange. Though not alone, she felt very isolated as the wolf drew nearer - as though he lived within a void which would swallow her whole and trap her with him. Everyone gave him a wide berth, and Mange herself grew tense. The wolf introduced himself as a simple loner, seeking refuge, but Wrathmange had a feeling he was lying. There was something in his eyes, the paleness of his skin, and the way he carried himself that was very wrong. Some of the others saw it, too, and voiced their concerns to the she-wolf. And then there was the fact that the two wolves just looked way too similar for comfort. If this was Wrathmange's birth father, she wanted nothing to do with him. The pack had told her how her mother had come back traumatized and pregnant, and she knew that nothing good could ever come from allowing that sort of evil to live with her family. Whomever this wolf was, he was not her family, not by a long shot. So she sent him away.

Only a few days later, she found him stalking the borders once more on a cool, windy evening, and this time she was completely alone. Having gone for a walk to clear her mind, Wrathmange was caught off guard by the sheer force of impact when the wolf who now identified himself as Warling came barreling into her. He told her who he was as he pinned her to the ground, paw on her throat while she pawed and clawed and writhed to get up. They fought across the snowy plateau, drawing perilously close to the cliff side. Blood stained the slushy ground where both wolves scrambled and scuffled, and snarls and yelps echoed through the crisp cold air. Eventually Wrathmange came out on top, being the more spry of the two, but not without having sustained significant injuries. She made Warling back off and leave as more of the pack finally made it to the plateau. Warling promised to be around, however; he knew how to live as a loner, stealing what he needed and getting what he wanted. He left Mange with a parting thought: He could find her anywhere, and he was not afraid to let her suffer before killing her. Time had not been kind to him, but it would be much less kind to her if she ever crossed him again.