Steila, one of the first wildclaws of the lair, is known for her aggressive nature and hot temper. Extremely loyal to Gossamer and the lair indeed, but most dragons take caution when being around her in fear of provoking a fight. Experienced in the battlefield, Steila is a opponent to be feared.

Steila was born in a Wind clan, but at a very young age left the lair. The carefree style and lack of purpose of the land did not satisfy her. She heard of a large group of her species that resided in the Scarred Wasteland-perhaps that would suit her better. She left with high hopes.

Her journey was not a pleasant one, but her experiences made her stronger. Everyday was a battle and had to be handled differently. Learning when it was good to fly, sneak, or fight became an everyday ritual to her. Having no one to teach her how to fight properly was a challenge, but every new scar that appeared on her body was another lesson learned.

By the time she arrived in plague's homeland, she looked much older than she actually was. Her body was racked with scars and wings started to look a bit tattered. A scout managed to find her wandering around the waste and took her to their main group. She enjoyed her new found companions, but did not adapt well at all. Her body was quick to get infected due to her injuries, and she felt positively awful. Sheila knew she would not last long at this rate. She tried to get herself healed up, but her friends seemed to find that quite odd. "Isn't being decayed and filled with viruses fascinating? It's the will of the Plaguebringer." they would state. But she did not agree, and would say so quite heatedly. But being so ill just made her lose the fights she would get into which just made her all the worse.

One quiet evening, she mustered the strength to leave. There was constant chatter of the home group in Nature. Nature...perhaps that would be more fitting, so she thought. She made her way to the north-western part of the world, the Viridian Labyrinth. The woods were cool and nuturing unlike the wasteland, and not so open and free like the Windswept Plateau. And that's where she met Gossamer.

Gossamer was wandering the woods gathering berries when she stumbled upon the sickly Sheila. One glance was all it took, not a second thought in her mind. "You need help. Come with me." Gossamer spoke, not even asking who she was or what she was doing in her home territory. Sheila, who by now had depleted most her energy getting there, just nodded wearily and with stumbling steps faltered after Gossamer until they got to the lair of Derby.

Exhausted, Sheila collapsed into a empty corner and shut her eyes, letting these strange dragons tend to her needs. This was not the wildclaw group, but these dragons seemed to be caring and considerate. While the scars remained and her wings never fully healed, Sheila was nursed back to health. She enjoyed being healthy while still getting chances to spar and serve the lair with her fullest of abilities.