Forgotten had been here for many days, and if anyone from her former life could see her now, they would certainly not recognize her. In fact, one would have to view her very closely in order to see a human at all. Her entire body was encrusted in blood and filth except for her bandaged arms, which somehow were meticulously clean. Her long, black hair fell in unkempt curtains around her, cloaking her like the fur of an animal. Her face was painted over the filth in swirls of colors, reds and blues, yellows and greens, a vibrant collage that disoriented and sometimes intimidated predators. 
     The most prominent changes, however, were not physical. The frightened little girl was gone, and in her place was a scavenger, a beast. Her heart had grown heavy and cold, and she no longer cared for anything, even her own safety. She charged at everything that moved, knowing that if she did not kill it, it would surely kill her. She didn't mind the dying, really. When all of your existence is defined by pain, a little more pain only made you more awake, more aware. So she charged everything, with no regard for injury or safety, charging them with only at knife and a plastic tray for a shield at first, expanding her skills with each failure and her tools with each success. 
     Even so, even she was not foolish enough to attack the Knight, that ebon warrior undefeatable in purpose and combat. She had first witnessed him a few days before, hearing the clashing of his latest challenger who, of course, was defeated with ease. Waiting for the knight to continue a little further, she leapt from the brush to scavenge all that she could from his victim in the few minutes she had, for not all who die will stay dead. She kept a wary eye on the knight the whole time, half expecting him to turn back for her, but he never faltered in his direction. She had been following him since, and never once did he fail to follow his path, or, more importantly to her, to provide for her with each of his discarded conquests.