The tenseness left the younger female’s body with a relieved exhale, and an unusually broad smile brightened her dark face. She seemed like she couldn’t contain herself, and Vesper began to smirk at her childish bouncing—until the girl bounced over to her and wrapped her neck close in a canine embrace. For a moment, the coywolf could feel heat shooting up into the tips of her ears, and her wide-eyed expression was awkward at best when the girl had skipped away again, declaring that she’d thought the hybrid was a monster.
“I do look pretty terrifying,” Vesper decided, clearing her throat then recovering from her moment with a smirk. She bared her teeth for effect. “Who says I’m not a monster?” she teased with a tilt of her head. She doubted she could be seen as scary except perhaps to cubs. Some distrusted her for her scarred appearance, but her size and even her gender made her seem less scary than a hulking male brute might have. She didn’t even think anyone had been afraid of her, except perhaps those closest to her in her life—and maybe Oliver seconds before he died.
She shook herself mentally, hopping back on track when Blind enthusiastically answered her conversation starter. She said that she had a family—a pack—and the words made Ves’ ears stand up with interest and a hint of confusion. Why she’d expected anything different was beyond her; most wolves did like to find a group to call home, especially one who was new and young in the world of ’Souls. She blinked then smirked—her default expression, as she could never quite manage the warmth of a full-on smile—before sitting down.
“What is Crimson Dreams like, then?” Vesper liked knowing as much about the packs in Nova Scotia as possible, especially with the rumored conflicts in the Tribe. There was a possibility she’d find a place for herself, but she doubted it would be anytime soon.
It might have been her heritage that played a part in that. Coyotes were more or less solitary, perhaps forming small clans for ease of hunting or to raise a litter before moving on alone again. Wolves, on the other hand, had an innate sense of socialization and family. Her coyote side, her mother’s side, meant that she was fully content alone—while the wolf side remained dormant, waiting for a chance to find a pack worthwhile.
The warmth the girl—a young adult, though Vesper thought of her as a girl for their six-month age difference—was exhibiting made her feel awkward. It wasn’t a bad awkward, wasn’t making her feel uncomfortable, but it was definitely not expected from a random acquaintance.
“I’ve been okay, same as always. My life isn’t quite as eventful as yours, sweetheart.” The coywolf let out a soft chuckle then thought for a moment of what else to say. “I met a horse,” she said, thinking of the grey cob and the white singer, “and I met a talking cat.” Luckily, her heel hadn’t ached her after the bite the feline had given it.
