Ansa

Ansa is poking around the old junkyard. The grimy wasteland stretches far as Ansa can see, twisted scraps of rusted metal, piled high atop each other. The mounds seemingly tower over the skyscrapers and factories in the background. With luck, she'll find something to pawn for a few extra bucks, but mostly she just enjoys the hunt. Ansa's ears perk up at the sound of footsteps behind her, her tail flicking back and forth with excitement. She spins on her heels with a wide grin, yellow eyes gleaming.