Hunched shoulders in a raggedy gray hoodie walk down the sidewalk outside the cafes and shops. Little tendrils of black hair escape the hood to billow around a sculpted face many have seen as exotic but most have just seen as a nuscance. From underneath the hood, two sharp blue eyes dart warily at each person that walks by, a semi-conscious flinch on the edge of her mind every time a shoulder or hand gets too close for comfort. She is an Omega, the lowest of the low, and has always expected to be treated as such.

She was born to what could have been a kind mother and a doting father but everything went wrong from that first day of her existance. The struggle of her birth ended with her mother's death and so she never got to know the woman who had wanted a daughter for ages. Her father was blinded from that day forward, only seeing the loss of his beautiful wife and so he took out his rage on the girl. All throughout her childhood, she was called the bane of his existance, a plague on this earth, brought here to torment him. He never saw the scared child she had become, always daring to hope for some sort of compliment or loving gesture. She never got one.

He was part of a pack and as a child, she had few friends. She became shy and withdrawn early on and those that would seek to defend her from bullies found themselves in an awkward position when her father came around since elders were to be respected, not stood up to. She lost friends quickly and cried silently behind those keen blue eyes, not wanting to give others more of a reason to pick on her. As she grew, some of the wiser found out about her power, that she could be silent no matter her speed. It helped in many a speedy escape from the abusive clutches of her father when she couldn't take it anymore. They decided to use her for the good of the pack.

And so she became the pack thief. When food was scarce, she was the one volunteered to take it from wherever she could find and she learned early on to eat what she wanted of it before she brought it back to the pack because they never shared. She made the mistake of thinking things would be different the first time she went out for them but when she got back, expecting praise and a reward, they merely scoffed at her and told her to go steal her own food. She learned to do just that and honing her skill, she thrived, which of course just angered her father more.

Unlike those who carry their scars around where others see and stare, Alexis never got the visible scars. Her father was smart about it because to make a fertile female ugly would be a perilous crime in the pack. Instead he made bruises where others wouldn't see, broke ribs and and bruised bone. He knew never to hurt her face where others would see. Who knows if Alexis would have ever found a mate in the pack. The men looked down on her, only seeing her as "Silk," the nickname she had earned for herself for being so smooth at thievery. She liked it better than her real name since she felt like a new person with a new name. She could pretend to be someone else, anyone else.

Who would have thought she'd get up the courage to actually run away? She didn't even think she had it in her. One night she was sitting outside, admiring the stars, wondering what life would be like somewhere else, somewhere far away where her father could never hurt her. One night, feeling a little brave after a particularly daring steal, she decided why not? Just go for it. And so she did. She packed up what little she had and took off into the night.

When she saw this town, she decided to stop and see if it was for her. It's far enough away from her pack lands to make her feel safe, but just so much. The scars run deep and she learned early on that nobody is to be trusted. The strong odor of coffee and biscuits makes her pause, blue eyes glancing through the cafe window to her right. Her stomach rumbles. She can't remember the last time she ate. That's not what made her stop though. There's another in there, another like her. A shifter. She inhales deeply but can't tell much more about it. She wonders what species they are, male or female, in a pack? Her stomach plummets and she turns her back on the window. What if its them? What if the pack came after her?

Her breathing ramps up, her hand flying to her chest because her heart is racing. She slumps back against the window and slides down, sitting on the sidewalk as she curls up into a little ball, silent tears stinging her eyes. She burrows her head on top of her knees, her hands wrapped so tightly around her legs that her knuckles are white. She tries to control her breathing, tries to take a full breath but everything is hazy. She thinks of escape. What if she took off now? They wouldn't have a hope of catching her. She knows the pack is full of fat lazy people now from her steals.