She was walking down dark alleyways. She had no fear, just anger. She was lonely and she was hunting. She could feel that her prey was near.

She had dropped out of high school to hunt down the man that killed her mother. She could see his face clearly. It was burned into her memory.

She hated her memories. They were not hers. She never knew her mother, but she was born with most of her mothers memories. Her mother saw a lot of death.

Her mother was just five helping her grandma in the kitchen when she just fell to the floor, never to move again. Her father hung himself from the tree in the back yard. He had had her and her older sister watch from the porch. Her older sister was stung by a bee and she died from a severe reaction while she was screaming for the neighbor to open her door. When she was a teen, she had to go get her mother, who was too drunk to drive home. On the way home a truck ran through a stop sign killing her mother.

As a teenage orphan her life went down a sad path. She ended up as a hooker. Those memories were even worse. Then she met someone that wanted to help. A strong gentle man. This memory was the one that bothered her the most. She knew it was her father. But his face and name eluded her.

This had made her a very broody girl. The others at the orphanage and local school thought of her as the creepy Indian girl. Her hair was long thick and black. Her skin and eyes were those of a native American. Then there was her name. It was a good name, but the story behind it gave some people the creeps. She heard the story from a teacher. She sat there listening without showing any emotion. Her mother had been stabbed on the day she was born. As she was dieing, she wrote the name in blood on the medics shirt. Her mother wrote the name Feather. She knew that her father, whoever he was, wanted to give her that name.

The other kids used to tease Feather. She was very skinny and barely had any muscle on her. She was great at gymnastics and was a very fast runner, but if the wind was too strong, it would almost pick her up. She was an easy target.

One day she had had enough. Charlie was saying his usual nasty stuff about her and her mom. She screamed at him to stop. That just made him come over and grab her. He picked her up and was about to say something when her hands grabbed his head and their eyes met. He went stiff. The color drained from his face and became ashen white. This had never happened before, but she knew what she was doing to him. She was making him see his own death. The very death he would have if he did not change his ways. Charlie fainted.

She only did that one more time before she turned sixteen. That was the night she snuck out of the orphanage and never returned.

She spent the last year hunting down the man that killed her mother. In chasing him, she found another ability. If someone had committed murder and had never been caught, she could sense when they were nearby. And now she sensed her mothers killer at the end of this alley.