Misfortune for the poor

[Torture du Nox]

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An unhappy growl crawled uncomfortably within the blank abyss of her belly, almost begging her to simply run in and snatch that meal. As her mind began to wrap around the worth of this risk, a scent on the cool, spring breeze drew her attention from the far-away, dead quarry, and onto the figure that strode confidently in her direction. Apprehension gripped the vagabond, but her steely resolve told her to regard the whole situation in a way that would get her that catch. She wasn’t thinking of much else other than that.

While she pondered how she would verbally approach this, her maroon eyes raked the figure drawing nearer, at first mistaking her for a child—accented by the ribbons tied around her tail. Sighing, the stranger pushed herself up and stood lankly at the skull-clad border, watching the russet girl examine the speared rabbit before finally addressing her. And when she did address her, the hybrid was surprised to hear the voice of a woman exude from the small canine’s mouth—the clan member was no child.

Though she could feel a stunned gape creeping upon the fringes of her expression, her muzzle remained acutely impassive until she spoke herself. Nothing, she admitted; I did not notice that I had come so close to a pack, and I threw the spear before I realized the border. Gripping her arm again, to stifle the blood, she simply nodded in the direction of the pygmy woman—respectfully averting her eyes—and explained:

Some wolf advanced on me just east of here mid-day, yesterday. I re-opened the wound chasing that rabbit. There was distaste in the spitted word “wolf”, but her animosity was kept fully from her exuding on her face. Succinct, she didn’t feel that she had to explain more than that, unless asked, so she fell quiet. She lifted her muzzle slightly to regard the smaller female again, but the glare of the sun caused her to squint her eyes and for her figure to become hazy. Or maybe the pain was deluding her vision. It was either that, or her hunger. A punctuating growl in the depths of her stomach confirmed that it was the latter. Black lips pulled into a light grimace, but it dissipated as she remembered what she was standing here for.

Using her free hand, on her injured arm, she motioned to the rabbit. It might do me well to mention that I am looking for shelter.. but my first concern is that rabbit. Starving does not quite describe my hunger. Though it couldn’t have done her much good to relinquish the fact that she was weak at the moment, but she really couldn’t see the harm in it. She was either going to get the rabbit back or not—and though she thought this might be an opportunity to find a suitable place for a home (the bone-clad border amused rather than bothered her), it wasn’t her main concern at that exact moment. Her mind could register little else other than the meal, lying uselessly beside the stranger. I would like my ragged spear too, but I understand that I may have relinquished my rights to either, as they are both in your lands.

“ The glint of light that caught the scythe,

Perhaps if I could pay a tithe… ”

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