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Name: Amelia "Millie" Hollingsworth

Age: 22

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega?  Beta - Brand new to the pack

[b]Background[/b]

Raised in Atlanta, Georgia, Millie Hollingsworth was a true southern belle. Born, raised and loved by a large, happy family, she wanted neither for love or attention. She blossomed in confidence from a young age, feisty and stubborn, just like the women who came before her. She got good grades, had plenty of friends and plenty of male attention. Her life was perfect, up until the age of seventeen. 

Sneaking home on night from a house party, having been dropped off at the small town welcome sign, the dark hadn't worried her as she walked, afterall, nothing bad ever happened in her little slice of paradise, apart from the occasional stray football breaking a window, or the occasional group of teenagers gaining a slap on the wrist for sharing a few beers in the back of a truck. A rogue, loner werewolf had stalked her through the undergrowth, waiting until a dark bend to attack her, leaving her for either dead, or to transition, he hadn't cared, as long as he'd got what he wanted. 

It was a cruel fate, and her life darkened in the months that followed. She withdrew from her friends and family, becoming cold and dismissive. Her grades dropped, her family despaired. At the age of eighteen, she left home, breaking off ties with her already distant family, disappearing away in the middle of the night. 

She wandered through the states of the county, mostly keeping to herself, only socialising with other groups of werewolves to gain information, or for safety. She rarely let her guard down, keeping her quiet, almost cold exterior. She was still sweet underneath, only those closest to her seeing her real personality. She had to be able to hold her own, her stubborn, headstrong southern nature still thriving. She was usually a flight risk, leaving the groups she'd felt too close with without warning, needing to regularly move on. She always worried she'd cross the werewolf who'd turned her, or worse, hunters. 

The thought of the release of death tempted her often, but she wasn't about to be finished by some hundreth generation pretty boy who thought he was owed the world because of his hunter lineage, or worse, the same breed, but female, that would've been too humiliating. 

She soon grew tired of moving around so much, and managed to gain the trust of her current pack. She worked hard as pianist at a local resteraunt, putting her youth-learnt talents to use, and brought in good money to the pack house. When life felt a little stale for her, there was usually some kind of brawl to keep her entertained. 

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