It was not long before Vesper realized she was no longer alone in the forest. Her nose was buried in the small carcass of her catch, but as she lifted her muzzle and swiped her tongue over her lips, she caught sight of two figures moving toward her through the trees. One detached from the other, padding forward confidently, outlined by the light filtering down through the red-mantled trees. The luperci was a bit young, probably a yearling at the most, but her pelt was unique and beautiful, cream dappled with brown and lilac.
As sweet as she looked, however, the stranger quickly proved herself otherwise.
Vesper had appeared indifferent, probably curious, but at the unexpected and bossy command, her coyote-large ears tipped back. She fought down her anger, the attack on her pride, and managed to transform that fire into ice. She straightened from her crouch, not without glancing derisively at the half-eaten kill, and boldly met the sky blue eyes of the creamy-brown quean.
“I’m sorry,” the coywolf said slowly, coldly, a contemptuous smirk quirking one corner of her lips, “am I missing something? Does something give you the right to order me around, sweetheart?”
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