I magine ones self: trapped in a room with the nests of the well known deadly spider of the black widow. Standing there upon her long legs – all eight of them, the matching amount of eyes glaring upon its victim, waiting, waiting to make it’s move before she is able to do anything… anything at all to catch her prey. This female wolf is something similar to the black widow. Long limps stretch out, granting her most of the height. Her movements are elongated and elegant in movement – however dangerously quiet as she stalks in the brush watching the every movement of deer, or elk or whatever it is she is hunting or spying. Painted in red upon her lower back is a marking in the shape of an hourglass similar to a black widow’s – a recognizable and rather feared expression so to speak. There is a small, red marking no bigger than the tip of pinhead just below her right eye. Scarlet gems, in small pearls grant her sight, pupil-less in appearance and shying away from the sunlight – day-blind, however sight becomes clear with the guidance of the light of the moon. Despite having a well kept and groomed coat, cobwebs litter across her body in a formidable, neat fashion. | Voice - 0:58-1:03; Angelina Jolie

T he wicked spindles web into a nest of the black widow. Protective she is over her home in fear of it being tainted or destroyed will she bite back with a painful sting and venomous intentions. Mischievous and sly like a cunning, witty little fox, seeking out of the nourishment of food in the old farmer’s hen-house and quick enough – dastardly enough to pry herself out of the troubles that could easily ensnare that venomous-tipped, hushed French tongue of hers. She is nothing more than the creeping, hushed shadows that linger, stretching out like minions craving after the lost souls that wandering helplessly for an eternity. However it is not evil that possesses the young soul that is encased in the depths of her heart. Perhaps a bit of a con-artist, slithering her way in to a mind of the unsuspecting and pulling out the information that she hungers for. If nothing else, an ethereal haunts to trick and tease. When it is time to just relax and soak and bask in this time of relaxation, Constance will let her mind wander and stray away from the mischievous ways – more or less she is rather playful compared to the upright, pristine personnel in business.

"I t is war we are trying to evade, am I not mistaking, monsieur?” a whispering, tantalizing hiss curls from the black lips that curve with a calm demeanor, flecks of a French accent is weighted on her tongue. Scarlet eyes turn attention to his majesty, as well as the six others that sit alongside her. Mother and father are to her left, sitting prim and proper, her fathers’ eyes were closed, and he was colonel, his face scarred from past battles. The black hairs on his muzzle, graying with age and has become blind in his left eye. Now a dusted web rests over that area. Her mother seated next to him, her expression calm, scarlet gems half opened, resting neatly against her mate – Constance was a spitting image of her mother yet the calm demeanor of her father’s personality with a sly nature. “It is.” Tenor vocals strum deeply, the king dips his head and acknowledges the eight-month old, almost yearling. Deep forest green eyes stare with a handsome gaze. “However it is something we may not be able to avoid much longer.” The king’s accent sounded Russian. His chocolate and black head lifting and staring outwardly beyond his caverns… “If zhe information you have given us eez true, dear Constance… zen we ‘ave no choice.” The black female winced, her claws digging nervously into the ground. Her father grunted softly, and nudged his shoulder into her carefully. Constance’s scarlet gaze was on the floor, the king as well as the others acknowledging the child’s nervous actions.

“I went in as a spy, as ordered, oui…” her red gems close, picturing the moments that took place in a neighboring pack. “They had no idea – they were not aware of the fact that I was of another pack member … I simply played along as a new member.” She pauses for a moment to allow her beginning statement to flow into their ears. “Avez-vous obtenu les informations comme demandé ?” ( Did you obtain the information as requested? ) Her father’s words bled into her dark ears with a hint of impatience. Constance turns her head to her father, her mother resting an ebony paw on him and whispers a hushed voice under her breath, pleading for his patience. A disoriented gaze washed over the young girls scarlet eyes as she nodded her head softly. “I did…” she nodded, words becoming almost incoherent. The sage, an older woman who was reaching upon her years, yet she too kept herself with radiance and formality. The jewelry around her neck and ears, and just above her eyes chimed upon her movement. “And what was it you found, child?” …