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Houses > Anneliese's Cottage

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Anneliese tiredly walked in her cottage, shocked and surprised from the numerous events that had occurred in the past few minutes or so. She set the wither basket of berries and herself at the crudely carved table, cupping her chin in her small hands. She knew that werewolf wouldn't have let her go; she was lucky at that time. Remorse and pity might have warmed its caustic heart, she reasoned. She suddenly felt ashamed. The werewolf thought she was so weak that she wouldn't be a fun challenge to break. Anneliese looked at herself. Of course not. Who would think she was strong wearing this girlish article and prancing around merrily? She was stupid to believe the Woods wouldn't hold any danger or such; her stupid innocence led her to believe this. As she thought, training her dark blue eyes at the world outside the window, she suddenly recalled the other werewolf, the one who had donned an inhuman smirk. Rage suddenly replaced blood in her veins. They all thought she was weak, didn't they? It wouldn't do to sit aimlessly and whine about it; there would be no significant effects, except that she might get a little depressed. She stood up. She would prove to the werewolves, to herself, to the world that she was, in fact, strong.

It was a risky decision she made, but she decided to head to the Woods once more. Ridding herself of her muslin gown, she replaced it with a more suitable outfit; a pair of combat boots made of soft leather, a Lady Pleated empire waist pale blue scoop neck, and a pair of black leggings. She pulled her brown locks into a loose ponytail and slid on her crossbow. She had practiced in the before weeks, so she was in good shape. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror. Much more like what a huntress like her should look like. Without another glance or chance to change her mind, she left her cottage and started in on the path leading in to the dark Woods.

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