Vesper shrugged when the white wolf pressed her on the topic of loneliness. “I can take care of myself; I don’t need anyone else. I like it when someone worthwhile talks to me, but if I go for a long time without talking to anyone, I don’t get upset.” She looked at the grass she’d sat down in then the tombstones, a dozen vague forms shadowed by trees and covered in plants. When she inhaled, the scent of the visitors and the pungent odor of fertile earth and vegetation swelled in her lungs. She gave a small smirk, one that did not quite touch her blue eyes, and added, “I’m used to it.”
After she had asked her question, it took Leigha a long time to answer. Her pale face acquired that vague look of someone deep in thought, and so the coywolf sat patiently, twitching her ears when she heard something hopping along in the grass—a nocturnal bird, perhaps. She watched the fluttering wings break through the tangles of foliage before the luperci seemed to snap back into the present, apologizing before explaining what an actress was.
The wolf in Vesper didn’t appreciate the direct stare from someone she didn’t know very well, but while her hackles grew slightly rigid, she didn’t become angry. She simply returned the eye contact with a pointed frown then looked up at the rising moon again. The last of the colors had bled out in the sky, leaving everything a uniform black.
“Acting for entertainment. It’s interesting, how you luperci get your kicks.” She shrugged. “Then again, I don’t mind a pretty voice, and you’re a singer. Is Cerc—is your pack based around stage ranks like that? You advance in entertainment?”
It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. Weren’t most packs hinged on survival? She supposed she didn’t know them very well; while she’d gotten some information about how the packs worked, she couldn’t be quizzed on them. Cercatori d’Arte operated differently than the packs she’d been used to in the wilderness of Canada, but if the pack was a long-standing one, something must have worked out for them.
“I’d be pretty useless in that pack, if that’s the case,” Vesper remarked, adding some humor into the conversation. She flicked her torn ear. “Unless fighting is considered an elaborate art form.”
