no drums for this soldier

Kaena Lykoi · 10-24-2010, 02:36 AM

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Word Count :: 322

The silver-shaded coyote did not think she would have seen this face again; it had been so long, Gabriel would not even remember Kesho. Perhaps they had lived with one another for a brief time, but the scarred woman did not think they would have clear memories of one another. She, too, had expected Kesho to have been in the grave—it had been many months since she had heard that phrase, the one which assumed she had been dead, but it had long ceased to irritate her. Even if the oft-repeated words still did bother her, she would not have cared in this instance—there was a strange joy, elation at a canine who would remember those old times and those old ways.

“I could say the same for you,” she responded, still hanging back—they were not so close they might have embraced one another, but as he came forward, neither did the scarred woman withdraw. Instead, she remained where she was, her own sable-tipped tail whisking back and forth a few times. The grin across her muzzle was evidence enough of her happiness of another returning. “There are old faces here... but I don't know that they're quite as old as we are,” the coyote said, frowning. “I was gone for a while, even—came back springtime, last year.” The coyote did not wish for Kesho to think she had been here the whole time, either; her own loyalty to Inferni had seemed to falter and die over a small, dark-furred puppy.

“It's so good to see you again, Kesho,” the coyote added, speaking more softly than she had before. There was something in old bones and old blood returning to Inferni and lending its strength—this was another founder of the clan, here, one of the original members who had gathered together on that beach. The silvery coyote could have yowled to the skies for all her excitement.

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