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Word Count » 302 :: Sylvey is so awesomes.
Her stoic expression did not fade, for her tolerance level was a low one. He explained, in one single word, that he was hungry before she settled back into the work of removing the organs to be placed in the bucket; all for herself and Eris Eternity, naturally. To Tlantli, the blood was useless. To the Eternian woman, the source of life that coursed through her veins was dirty. It didn't matter what power it might have had otherwise, for it was tainted with the blood of a wolf, and all blood that lacked pure coyote roots was worthless and unnecessary. She didn't care as it seeped into the ground, but she didn't know that this boy — a boy in his mind if not in the physical world — had an affinity for it. Fiery eyes turned to the older male and she grimaced. "No. You cahn not halp. Go hunt your own kill." It was the same thing she would say to anyone; this was hers, and they needed to be proactive in retrieving their own dead creatures.
Of course, she expected he would need something else as well. The cultural symbol of Salsola was one she herself had yet to receive, but was one that she had so carefully worked on adhering to those around her. Even if the boy was annoying, she couldn't simply push him away at the opportunity to apply it to his flesh. Her eyes narrowed and explored his body in search for a place that would make a suitable home for such a thing; it needed to be visible to the members of the Family, but easily hidden once one stepped outside of the pack lands. "You cahn haft it if you let me do cotona." An easy trade, she believed, for a mess of meat and blood.