(381) Eterne! 
The sable-shaded woman looked thoughtful for a moment. She had experienced the hardships of the world first-hand, and in her youth, she might have traded freedom for a bite of meat or a mouthful of water. Lean times had befallen her before, unbelievable as it might seem to see the dark-hued canine in her glorious prime. She was quiet for a long moment before she looked to Molcaxi again, a slight toss of her head given to the thinner coyote
Before me, there were others to protect you, yes? Did they always do so? she asked, wondering if the younger woman would surprise her yet again. The previous comment was unprecedented, and the dark Auxiliary was very nearly curious to see what Molca would have to say for herself. The tawny canine turned her big vermillion eyes toward the fire, hesitating only a moment before she affirmed Eris. Others, yes. They... no protect, no always, Molca admitted, shifting her stance uncomfortably. The yellowy female seemed to anticipate the direction of the conversation, but she did not begin to speak again until Eris addressed her with another question.
What did they do to you? the coyote asked, her own voice soft now. She was not needlessly cruel to Molcaxi, but this bordered on it -- ordered to speak her own troubles, Eris did not think herself capable of sharing some of the darkest blemishes of her history. Molca's jaw worked up and down a few times, silent huffing escaping her throat, and Eris shook her head, cutting the woman off with a wave of her hand. Don't. We don't need to hear it, she said, a darkness creeping into her voice.
Turning back to Axelle, the hybrid woman appeared troubled now, as if she herself did not know the darkness that lurked in the slave's past. She might have guessed, but she did not actually know -- the hesitation, the hurt. It was enough to confirm to Eris what Molca had experienced. So long as she is mine, no man can take her. None could so much as slice her fur without facing my anger, the sable hybrid said. She did not intend to suggest that all slaves required this particular flavor of protection, but Molca did.
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