Eighteen years ago, she had been blessed with an angel during one of the most frightening times of her life. A little more than eighteen years ago, she had been working with wounded orphans of an exiled race, the people of Bloodpool Canyon. She had been tasked with six jackal pups, one of which succumbed to sustained injuries while in the care of her and others. It was moments like those which reminded her that her duties there were a job. The remaining five grew stronger from their wounds, which had come from a fight with the government officials who had invaded their lands against the document that was supposed to officiate their exile; henceforth keeping the government from hurting them.

The pups had been exiled alright, as with their parents, ancestors and anyone else born of the blood, but the government was ever persistent in their persecution.

She had fallen in love with the stronger two, a male and female. They were both about nine years of age and both were marked by large scars even in their young age. The male, who she had met after his father was murdered in his infancy, had gained his scars by the brute force of others. The female, a tiny member of a race that was heard of but never seen, had gained all her lasting wounds from her mother. She was severely burned, in some places, beyond repair. The little girl was tense and fearful, prone to sudden violent outbursts. Her work unit, whose name she never uttered to keep it and its members safe, had closely analyzed her to determine the extent of her abuse injuries. They were worried about her brain, that it had been irreversibly damaged. Study of her showed that it was mostly unaffected, and she became literate.

She loved that little she-pup so much. She wanted to take the little girl home and raise her in a happier environment. She knew the pup would never fit in, but she would be safe. However, she soon realized that the two were needed in their homeland, as the program was shut down because the government had caught wind of them trying to assist the exiles. If they were captured, especially with the pup deemed "hellhound..."

No, she wasn't going to think about the past. Those pups probably weren't even alive anymore, so little make it to adulthood... the likelihood that all six remaining pups survived the eighteen and a half years since she said 'goodbye'... was so very slim. Instead, she was going to focus on today.

Eighteen years ago, she had given birth to a graceful little pup herself, a welcomed angel in a time where she mourned over the lives of six others. She had named the tiny red furball, Nadia, a name meaning 'hope.' She had kept her secluded for her whole life, afraid that G.U.N. agents who were still searching for scraps of the exile caretakers would wound her. Once she was full-grown, she would teach her daughter all that she needed to know about the world, including the exiles of Bloodpool Canyon.

But the lessons of the world could wait for today...

It's Nadia's birthday after all.