Word Count → 411 :: derp
That apparition had not returned -- whatever it had been, it was gone and she could not have summoned it back with all the strength in her body. Her yellow-green eyes burned toward him, still fiercely curious. It was enough to override whatever good sense and fear she had, for she did not think to protect herself so or so much as suspect him of malice. She had not paid attention to the lore and stories of her family; she was indifferent to the Lykoi legacy, and from it she wished to derive one thing. She had this one small thing now, the knowledge of her paternal heritage, and this was all she had required from any of them. Then again, the thought had not occurred to her that one of them might be touched by some other power beyond their own.
He recognized her, it seemed -- there was mirrored interest in his sudden movement and shift forward, and he spoke, revealing himself to be a sibling. He was older than her, of course -- no matter how far removed she was from the rest of her family, Eris thought her littermates would have been instantly recognizable to her. It may or may not have been the truth, but it was what she earnestly believed. The woman did know that one of her brothers was dead; Kaena had shared this with her upon Eris's first arrival to Inferni. There was that small grace, but other, more important knowledge had been delayed. He was too small and coyote-like to be one of Gabriel's siblings, and too young to be that mythical eldest brother, the one she scarcely remembered to count among her family.
She did know him, but she did not speak his name; instead, she responded slowly, her brilliant eyes refusing to drop. “I thought she was already dead,” the coyote said. She would not defend herself further, and it was the truth -- there had been too much blood and cleaved flesh for the youngster to tell where Astaroth really ended and Kaena began. Sure, she knew her mother wasn't dead as in ceasing to breathe when she left, but at the time and even now, she had not known what she could have done other than sit and watch the scarred old woman die. She had not felt obligated or inclined, and so she had taken her leave. It was ridiculously simple and reduced in her own mind.
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