Word Count→328 :: Oh, a MOOD. SHAME ON COTL. Shame. Shame.
She hadn't been sleeping well at all, not since returning from the presence of dear sweet Caillen. Something in the back of her skull was nagging at her. Something clearly wrong. She had enjoyed the wolfdog's presence, enjoyed his embrace, his darling naivety. But he was not of Inferni. He could never hope to be so beautiful as Inferni. She shouldn't have cared, since he wasn't part of her world. Yet she had. When the idea came that she was wrong, she had quashed it faster than she had ever moved. Something inside of her wanted to believe Caillen was good, even if he was far from the coyote blood she loved.
Her legs carried her away from the caverns, away from the brother and father who reminded her of what she was, and who made her realize that it was improper to feel such compassion toward the strange man. They were family. They deserved her attention. Not the charming, accent-bearing giant who had saved her from the cold snows of Halcyon. "Don't be a fool, Talitha," she whispered, listening to the winds whip past her hair. Gabriel and Ezekiel had been there for her when no one else could have been. Caillen was a passing fancy.
The smell of blood on the air brought her attention to the real world, ears swiveling in the direction of the scent. Death loomed over the land, beckoning her in the direction of the gas station that sat at the opposing side of the kingdom from her own hide-out. The russet female grimaced, tracking the scent carefully, cautious of what might be waiting for her at the destination. The sight of the orange coy-dog reached her first, but the blood soon followed, littering the snow like some great crimson mural. A noise of disgust escaped her lips.
"Cotl, what did you do." Her tone was accusatory as her eyes gazed upon the carcass of what had once been a living creature.
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