She was placed with a foster home, grew to call the woman there Mommy...the man Daddy. They planned on adopting her, the papers were already filed, but all good things cannot last forever. When she was four, the Mommy died and the state denied her Daddy to adopt her. Then, they took her away.
After that, she was placed in an orphanage until she was 9, within a year she was labeled as unmanageble. She would scream, yell, hit, steal, destroy her foster families' houses and property, and basically try to make herself totally unlovable. When she was nine she was placed with her first foster family. For the next 5 years she was bounced from family to family...usually staying in one no more than a few months. By the time she was fourteen, she had run away almost twenty times. She found an older boy...a mere nineteen year old punk, that discovered that she was kin and introduced her to Garou society.
She thought she was in love...all the things you think when you are fourteen and believe you've found the love of your life. He introduced her to the caern...and changed her life. At the time that she went there, the caern had a long standing rule that kin had to have a Garou sponser, which had slowly become a sponser in everything. Without one, a kin could be claimed and treated badly with little they could co about it. With one, they were protected, but controled.
In the beginning, he seemed to care about her as much as she did about him, but after a few months, his friends started to make fun of him for giving her so much freedom. He became obsessive about her being where he wanted her to be, dressing the way he wanted her to, acting the way he thought she should act. Then he hit her. She cried for two days, he gave her flowers and a necklace. She forgave him.
Two weeks later it happened again, then again a week later. Then the bad became worse. One day, she was in the bawn, leaning against a tree. A Garou, one of the young ones that were gaining so much power, told her to kneel to him. She stood. He hit her. She stood. He hit her across the cheek, throwing her to the ground. She stood. Then he started beating her, others had to pull him off. After she woke up...and healed, only fading bruises reminding her of how close she came to death, she decided to leave. The healer came in as she was folding clothes, no bag out for fear someone would catch her trying to leave. After the healer left, she put the clothes away in drawers, her fingers numb. She was fifteen years old...and pregnant.
A five to seven month old Ciera was found in a garbage can, badly malnourished, but alive, almost 21 years ago...
