Her beginnings are not noble, let alone surprising. She is the byproduct of a weekenders tryst and raised primarily by her mother and other maternal relatives. Mojave hasn't a clue about her heritage, other than the fact her name—both fore and sur—came from a father she has and will probably never meet. Her sense of wanderlust, though a wavering familial trait, did not come spurned from the stories of adventure or history—it came from necessity.

Mojave, the sole survivor of her litter, was raised in a nomadic pack led by her uncle. Towards the end of a summery youth, she began to clash bitterly with him. In the midst of winter, their bickering turned from verbal assaults over moody teenaged comments to full on attacks, the last of which set her loose from the pack altogether.

From there, Mojave traveled well into the north, eventually depositing her into a region known as Relic Lore. She spent some time there meandering around, even going as far as to almost commit herself to a pack before turning tail on a wave of uncertainty. Again she wandered, inevitably never quite escaping the bounds of the great forest that encompassed the region by the time winter came to. She was discovered by the then leaders of Hearthwood River in the distant north of the Lore, hungry and willing to offer herself up to get through the winter in exchange for a place to stay. And once spring came back to the Lore, she ventured out and off to see what else lied out in the world that she barely knew.