Amila Rodes
Stretching her arms high above her head and bouncing on her heels Amila looked at the path that laid out before. She was on the roof of one of the taller buildings in the industrial area that her pack had control of. From there she could see where the industrial are blended into downtown, which is where she was headed. Tonight was another New Moon and Amila wanted to wear something. . .nice, well nicer than her normal attire, to the shindig that was always held at the Nightbloomer Club on New Moons and that meant shopping. Not that she was ever big on the whole fashion and shopping thing, that was really more of Spirits thing.
Looking once more towards downtown Amila envisioned the path she was going to take. Which roofs she would leap to, which rails to bounce off of, what walls to turn run up. Aside from being in wolf form and running under the light of the full moon, freerunning was the most exhilarating thing Amila had ever experienced. Shaking herself loose she inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled then leaped off the building to the roof of another. Thanks to her being a werewolf she could leap farther, jump higher, and do amazing flips, twist, and turns that no normal human could.
After all the leaps and bounds it had only taken Amila several minutes to reach downtown and it's busy streets. Taking a moment to catch her breath she reclined on a bench outside a barber's shop.
"So when are you ever going to grow out of that silly hair color and let me dye it back all natural like?" smiling Amila looked up at the man who spoke to her. He was fairly old and looked more like a lumberjack that a barber. "Oh about two weeks from never. The old man flashed her a lopsided grin and shook his head. "I'll never understand you young things and your strange sense of fashion." Amila waved her hand in a mock dismissive way "Haven't we already been over this? I plan on keeping my hair this color until I start to go gray THEN I'm going to turn into one of those old ladies who dyes their hair that strangely awesome silvery purple color." This caused the old man to chuckle as he reached out to ruffle her hair before going back inside.
This type of exchange was common for Amila, the old man and her had nearly the same conversation every time she came downtown it was almost like a habit for her to even stop in front of the store. Humming to herself Amila hopped up and headed down the sidewalk to one of the clothing stores to look for an outfit for the big night.