Word Count :: 353 NGL, I giggled like a 12 year old at that.
In her own head, Kaena was, of course, the very first—a seeming impossibility, of course, as she had to have arisen from somewhere. She did not leap from any foreheads or rise from the ground in adult form, after all. Even so, she had been the one to continue on—she had been the very last, and so, she was the very first, too. Her father's distant relatives hardly counted; by now, any who would have remembered Andre's name were dead and buried, replaced by more wolfish generations who might very well be more vindictive toward hybrid-kind, never realizing the faint threads of coyote in their own flesh and blood. “And you, too,” the coyote said, lacking the eloquence to elaborate just how it made her feel when another of the brood crossed the border and came home. She probably could not have put it into words even if she possessed the vocabulary for it.
Her coal-colored ears perked in interest as the russet-faced woman elaborated on where she had remained. The hybrid was interested by the intial distance from Inferni, although she declined to comment; there was no need to sour first meetings with touchy questions and interrogations. “I'm just glad you're here now. You do have quite a lot of family here, too. If you want, we can head in—maybe you'll get to meet some of them today?” the coyote asked. She figured Clover's appearance on the border here was reason enough to cease her patrols for the moment; rest seemed like a wonderful option at that moment, and the scarred hybrid was too eager to indulge herself with that, if it also meant she would learn more about her granddaughter.
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