Misfortune for the poor

[Torture du Nox]

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(500+)

Without verbal conformation, the small Luperci picked up the rabbit and threw it expertly to the dark ‘yote’s feet. Though she flinched from the surprise movement, immediate recognition of the favor shone on her face, and she dropped to her knees and grabbed the limp carcass with such hungry intensity that she had to throw an apologetic glance in the ribbon-tailed woman’s direction before allowing herself to finally take a bite. Under normal circumstances, she would have taken the time to cook it over a fire, but raw would do for now. The taste of blood and flesh was so rewarding to her, that she had to force herself to remember her manners and not continue to eat. Though it did nothing for her hunger, that simple bite had done wonders for her morale.

A tall ear flicked, bringing her attention back to the russet female again, who now had her spear (as well as an additional, noticeably well-crafted spear that made hers look like shit) and was standing somewhat nearer. She mentioned the wolf and the sable hybrid grimaced. I am capable, she said, though couldn’t honestly speak more on her skills since she knew it would look dishonest on her part. I had been hunting, and he caught me unaware when I was about to take down my target. If he had been normal, I would have killed him—and if I had been normal, he would have killed me. I was lucky to escape him. It was as simple as that, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit she had been outmatched; perhaps not that, but he’d definitely had the element of “surprise” on his side.

At the secondary mention of her weapon, she smiled slightly, a little ruefully, but remained quiet until the clan-dweller had finished speaking, and stood before her now, spear outstretched to her. The dark woman took it, gently, and ran her thumb over its crudely crafted surface. Still... it hadn’t disappointed her. I abandoned my supplies to hunt and could not return to get them after my attack. I had a dagger, but after cutting that lout in the ribs to escape his grip, I lost it in my haste afterwards. This spear I made in twenty minutes, and it is all I have for now. She looked up finally, setting it at her side (as she was still braced comfortably on her knees, seeing no real need to get up), as well as the bitten rabbit, both items bloodied.

You say… this is sanctuary to coyotes? she piped again, feeling her heartbeat pick up for a reason she couldn’t quite finger. If the wolves around here were going to treat her as hostilely as the first one had, then she needed to be around her own kind. Though only half coyote herself, her striking physical resemblance to her mother’s blood was unequivocal, and had led to several serious altercations in the past. Not to mention the one yesterday. Damn wolves. If there is any hope here for a miserable Halfling like me, then I would be foolish not to try and prove my worth.

She peered cautiously into the gray-lilac eyes of her greeter, hard-pressed not to recite her many talents then and there. But she held her tongue, save for a soft, necessary introduction: My name is Torture.

“ The glint of light that caught the scythe,

Perhaps if I could pay a tithe… ”

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