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The russet woman was an outsider, an anomaly wandering amongst the regulars. She had known nothing of this clan or her own family, aside from her dad's tales, which now seemed like fairy tales and scary stories meant to scare. The past of this clan was bloody enough, but it had been serene since her arrival, at least. She smiled a little at his words, but they did little to alleviate her worries. Nothing serious -- it must be true, otherwise he would have pressed their business, but Myri could not release her apprehension, much as she wished she could. Her tail flicked in nervousness, and she nodded her acquiescence.
She did not laugh at his joke, though she attempted a smile. In truth, the comment, small and innocuous as it was, had cut down to her very center. Too skinny, too tall, ears too big, snout too small. The "rhyme" -- it could only be called such loosely, for there was only one rhyming line -- had been repeated more than enough times when she was a child, and the last place she'd expected to hear it was from the mouth of a superior. Had she the capability, her skin would have been scarlet -- as it was, her ears and tail drooped visibly, though she turned away quickly toward the pit. Over here, she said, shuffling toward the ring of rocks she'd used as a pit. The ashes and bits of charred wood marked the place just as well as the rocks.
At least the humans are all gone now, she said, lamely. Most of her did not want to speak, but she had to fill the silence with something, or that remark would ring in her ears until she had to scream to make it go away. She moved off toward the side of the schoolhouse, half of her disappearing from view for a moment as she bent to pick up a few pieces of wood. The Vigiles shuffled back, carrying an armload of sticks and logs with surprising ease. She dumped the pile rather unceremoniously next to the pit, and started to move some into it, her innards still stinging and burning with shame.
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