It had only been a few days since Valorie had been dropped off at camp, she had adjusted immediately as she felt that had she nothing tying her to the outside world. Except her father. She missed him but accepted that her move was for the better. Her father could no longer handle her; he had been the only one who could read her as a child, however as her obsession with death deepened, they grew more distant. Valorie pictured his face from when they parted; it was still fresh in her memory, the deep wrinkles around his eyes, the darkened bags beneath, the smile that weakly hid his anxiety. Watching him walk back to the car, where her step mother waited, Valorie knew that this move would benefit him as much as it would her.<br/><br/>Valorie had yet to make friends. Once again her severe resting 'bitch face' repelled people from getting to close. Even her half brother, the only other child of Hel in the camp, seemed unimpressed with her presence. There was no solidarity among siblings in this instance. In a way she was glad for it. Her brother took after their mother's decaying half but had the obnoxious personality of whom she assumed was his father. Valorie had rather not be associated with such a person. Instead she stuck to her insects; specifically short horned grasshoppers, who she had revived and seized under her control. She understood the dead far more than the living.<br/><br/>Early that morning, before the rest of her cabin arose, Valorie went for a walk in the brisk cold air with a grasshopper on her shoulder. She enjoyed the cold, concluding it was her mother's influence. The sharp wind flicked Valorie's hair upwards, her thick dark hair became wilder and covered her eyes. Momentarily blinded she stumbled forward as she attempted to part the hair, before she could see her path again, Valorie crashed into the wall of an unknown cabin. Stunned, she slide to the ground and cursed loudly.