between angels and insects

Vesper · 10-15-2011, 04:58 PM

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Vesper

I said, I cannot follow the river

of her myth; but I can

follow her sweet desert song

like a stream through the fiery hills.

Word Count → 280

There was a slight movement of the woman’s lips; the coyote hybrid’s eyes had drifted to them as something to look at while the silence began. It was the merest indication that there was more to say, but Vesper hardly recognized it as significant. She did, however, instinctually raise her eyes to the pale wolf’s heterochromatic ones—not a direct enough stare to be challenging, but something that showed she had Noir’s complete attention. She noted the trace of an old scar before the older loner spoke.

Vesper immediately pricked her ears when Noir mentioned nasty packs. Any kind of information of who to avoid would be useful to the young loner; she had been keeping alert for the news of the Tribe as well as any other conflicting groups ever since setting foot here, not wanting to run into a hostile pack. Her eyes narrowed at mention of being captured as a slave, as if to express that the notion was ridiculous, but her thoughtful frown was enough to show she would be wary.

“Stay away from Salsola and Anathema,” the coywolf stated, mostly to commit the warning to memory. “A vicious pack with slaves… Salsola must keep itself well guarded, if the other packs haven’t already turned on them.” She shook her head. “Though some groups just want to keep to their families,” she allowed, nose wrinkling. It was still odd to see so many packs functioning and tolerant of each other’s strange cultures, but she would save her judgments for later.

Her eyes lowered, and she inclined her head with a rare gesture of respect. “Thank you for the information, Noir. Is there anything I can offer in return…?”

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