Word Count » 581 Lots to catch up on, sorry for his absence
Lingering in the large doorway-like dilapidating stone wall while others filed past him greedily didn’t bother the boy. He simply stood as still as he could while other members, who were only familiar by the scent they all shared, brushed against his sides in a less tentative attempt to find a seat at the wooden table. Finally the stream lessened, and the ginger coyote was brave enough to take a step into the firelight. Eris found him shortly after his entrance, her charcoal hand waving him forward with a fond smile. The Kimaris nodded at her, and the others who complimented him enough to even set their gaze upon his form. Even the Boss King let his pale, swimming green eyes rest curiously at his angle for only a moment. After being addressed silently, Citlali found his way to a seat, appropriately chosen for his importance. Monotonous forest green eyes found his aunt’s nimble, sand-pelted form again, already seated and comfortable by others of the pack. He breathed finally.
Many more wolves, coyotes, dogs, and mixes of all three continued in and found seats after he had. Each one had different expressions painted and illuminated by firelight on their faces. Each one came in differently and expressed a different manor with their presence. Each one had a place in the Family. Even before a good deal were settled quietly, Sirius spoke, his voice drawing eager glances to his end of the table. Citlali listened, as he should, to the man he had seen a glimpse of only once before. Only once did the ginger-white coyote shift his dull gaze to the table, movement of setting up stopped for the moment. The amount of food was great, large enough for each member to eat for many days. A thought like so, however, did not water the mouth of the boy.
Once the Boss was done, his tone ending sturdily, mysteriously, and ravenously, few began to eat upon his command. It was only after he, and those leaders like himself, had had their share, did most other members pick up pieces of rations. Much like those around him, Citlali marveled at the many flavors and decisions before him. He knew he had the right to feast alongside the leaders, however, he still waited, keeping his eyes fixed on a rabbit while paws grabbed about before him.
Not long after the sounds of feasting erupted gradually into the air, did another voice break them. It was urgent, defiant, and that of a slave, Citlali realized after his gaze had been lifted. Sirius rose with such triumphant that the boy’s eyes had trouble following what happened next. After disapproving words of the Thistle King were spat at the scrawny male a gleaming freshly sharpened knife was thrown on the wood and produced a clanging noise as it settled. Citlali made no move to grab it as few others did. He kept his hands between his crossed legs, as far out of sight as he could. The next movements happened too quickly. Someone snatched the knife with lithe hands while a young girl was stricken by the slave, a fatal mistake, and Larkspur snatched the offender as if he was just a hare. Citlali didn’t watch the rest, as many did, until the supper had moved along. He listened still to his Auxiliaries words, which she spoke as if nothing had happened, and smiled whether she caught his eye or not. Good news had been brought that night.
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