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Myrika is by me!
Myrika had been paying close attention to the borders as of late. The scout's path was honorable enough, and she had chosen it as her own, moving from Praeses to Vigiles. Now, she was Caelum of the pack -- a staggeringly sudden change of rank, to be sure, but one she felt good enough holding. It filled the rusty-hued canine with a sense of pride, though she still could not assuage the feeling she'd been promoted based on blood rather than talent. Then again, she had a horse, and she had been especially careful to look their perimeter -- it wasn't as if she had stagnated completely and received a promotion, was it?
In any case, the rusty-hued woman did not feel the decisions of her leadership were hers to contest. It was kind of nice, being high up in the hierarchy -- not that Myrika ever abused such powers. Still, it was good to be respected, even if Infernians didn't tend to fawn all over their superiors. Excessive submission would have made the red-haired woman uncomfortable as all hell, anyway -- she didn't need someone to grovel over her feet, after all, and she suspected the remainder of the coyote clan was much the same.
Eira moved steadily beneath her, and the reddish woman's body swayed with the horse's movement. The steady sounds of the horse's hooves against the ground filled the Caelum's ears, and she daydreamed of the grayscale woman. She had seen nothing of her since that fateful encounter in the D'Neville, which was troubling, to say the least. Had Myri scared her off? The hybrid couldn't help thinking these thoughts; it was a long moment before she realized Eira had ceased moving, and they were a few feet in front of a stranger. She hadn't even heard the newcomer's howl.
Ah! Hi, she yelped, her ears folding flat in embarrassment. I'm sorry -- I was daydreaming, she explained, backing Eira up a few steps and sliding down swiftly from the saddle. She tapped the horse on the rump, and the blue roan moved off a few feet, bending her head to crop at the grass. Most of it was winter-dead, but there were a few patches of green in the world yet, and the horse would seek them out like a targeted missile, no doubt.
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