comfortable inside these wounds

Vesper · 10-25-2011, 08:39 AM

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Sorry for the wait!

At her suggestion, the white wolf mirrored Vesper’s devious smile. Stating that adventure was her middle name, she encouraged the hybrid to lead the way, and with a smirk and flourish of her tail, Vesper did just that. She padded back toward the lapping waves, the almost mesmerizing rush of water that would shatter into violence once the storm rolled in. She did not want to be caught near the beach when that happened, and so all she could do was trot along the shore, eyes straining to find the closest little bump toward the isle.

“You smell slightly of a pack,” Vesper remarked as she walked, assuming that Kiara would be following. “I think I’ve smelled it before. I-chee-something?” Her memory was fuzzy, and the little information she’d gained from the pack member she’d met had not been enough to cement the name in her mind. The pack names she knew were, for the most part at least, the dangerous ones—either because of sinister reputations or because they were locked in war. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t remember Kiara’s pack’s name.

The small talk ended as she was finally confident—or as confident as she could be, with her injuries—that she could probably make the swim. Standing on a flattened rock, the spray of the waves wetting her scarred legs, the coywolf looked out to the island. It would be easy to swim, if she were in prime condition—and perhaps a bit bigger. She wasn’t sure that a creature of her size would do well to swim, but part of her wanted to prove that she could do something so dangerous. Her pride had been even more injured than her body during the fight with Helotes; to think that some brute could do what he’d done, and terrify her—

Vesper growled suddenly, lips wrinkled back in a snarl of aggravation and pain, and leaped into the waves.

Immediately, the water rejected her—pushing her back toward the rock from whence she’d jumped. She thrashed her forelimbs, hissing as the saltwater burned her open wounds. So this hadn’t been the smartest of her ideas, but for one day of her life she could take risks. Ears flattened and eyes narrowed determinedly, she flailed more, pushing at a rock under her paws so that she was propelled closer to the island.

It soon became clear that she’d need help: another swimmer beside her, perhaps a nudge. She was doggie-paddling toward the sheltered island, making some progress, but the waves kept bursting around her face and weren’t doing much to aid her.

“Kiara,” Vesper managed to yap. It wasn’t desperate, but it was somewhat urgent—an invitation for the arctic wolf to join her already. Was she halfway there? A third of the way there? She kept paddling.

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