|Born in the American wilds at the time of the first settlers of the new world, Silverwolf, as she was known then, was given a warrior's name in alliance with the spirit of a warrior that carried her into many battles beside her husband. In the summer of her twenty second year her villiage was attacked and pillaged by the British The elderly, women and children were either captured and tortured, or killed by sword or trampled by horses. She and her husband were captured by the soldiers, enduring rape to torment him and later watching him killed before her. Left to die, tied to a stake on the camp's outskirts, she was visited by what she believed to be a spirit guide, the vision of a wolf that spoke to her of her inner will and revenge for the devastaion wrought here. That night she died in the arms of that spirit, embraced by an elder of the Gangrel clan, with her first kill as a kindred being the soldiers that had stolen her husband, and as she later found, her six year old daughter. As the years passed, Kitiara stayed out of the eye of society, watching as the white man took over the country she loved, destroying it in thier desperate hunger for what it offered. She withdrew gradually, spending more and more of her years in a dark jaguar animal form with her sire, wandering the woods in disconnection from progress that went on without her, until she could not ignore the world any longer.
Kitiara came to the old barn in San Antonio with her sire Julian to seek out her Grandsire, Gareth Draken. After centuries travelling with Julian, now in a constant wolf state after a kindred lifetime of massive frenzies that left his human form horribly mutated to animalism, she worried for his health as he started to lose his will to go on, tiring easily and refusing to hunt. Returning him to his sire, a man fiercely protective of all in his blood and adopted family, she hoped that the man that had been her constant companion since her embrace would rise again to his strength. Julian instantly found a friend in a gentle gypsy girl that calmed him, and Kitiara can find some peace that he is in good hands. The wanderlust of her kind strongly calls her, so her time here may not be long, and her ventures will take her away often. But be assured the beautiful Native woman will return to her sire and grandsire when the wind shifts, for like calls to like and she renews herself in thier presence. Perhaps one night you will be so fortunate to catch a glimpse of her, hear her voice on the evening breezes, or if truly fortunate, garner for yourself a moment of her time. May the Spirits be with her.