Rory
The musty scent of the cold cell filled my nose. My fur was dirty and matted and if you had never seen me before, you'd never know it was supposed to be white. I felt bad about how I spoke to the goddess, my ancestor. That was still something I couldn't bear to think about but I felt justified. I hated how all of this was on my shoulders. The survival of an entire race was riding on me surviving when so many others wanted me dead. Wanted my kind, my gender, my rank wiped from the face of the planet.
My bones ached from laying on the cement floor and the sound of whimpers from other cells sounded around me. The occasional guard walked past me and peered at my still form through the metal bars. I paid them no attention. My mind was filled with rage, sorrow, hurt, fear. Not only was I
