fury of flurries

Vesper · 01-17-2012, 05:39 PM

[html]

SSWM Word Count → 619 :: Wrote this up during class, so excuse the quality and rambling.

Standing beside her small clanmate, well aware of the difference in experience and years, Vesper wondered once more why she had been chosen to advance in her rank. Sparring with Ezekiel and his wolfish pupil might have shown the Aquila that she was determined and a good fighter, but that alone couldn’t have been a reason to choose her over others with blood ties to Inferni.

Or perhaps that was the reason she’d been picked; she didn’t have a history with the clan, and that was a blessing as much as it was a curse. Her lack of experience meant that she wasn’t well versed in the rituals and values of the place, and that she would need teaching where others acted out of instinct. However, being a fresh face also meant, for Ezekiel, that she could overlook the darker secrets of Inferni and look at the group with an outsider’s eye. She had chosen this place out of sheer interest and an odd feeling of belonging, not because she was seeking out family. Her family was dead—or so she hoped, as that was far easier than risking seeing them again—and while in time she would become a fang sister to her comrades, she didn’t have that tricky history with them. The judgment passed onto others because of their past transgressions had no weight on her.

Her musings were cut short as a brisk wind combed through her dark-dappled mane, sending a flurry of snow about her. She had the grace not to shiver, but she was woken from her reverie to the world around her. For a moment, she feared that she had missed Zana’s answer to her question, but the russet woman had not spoken—only sighed.

The topic that the Caelum brought up made Ves start guiltily. A wave of defiance threatened to pulse through her, but there was no judgment in the other female’s words: only a soft admonishment. Pale blue eyes cut away from the greyed lilac ones and settled once more in the direction of the peaceful mountain pack. She pushed thoughts of Sage out of her mind, of the branding of traitor, and answered in an equally quiet tone.

“My concern for her doesn’t have as much weight as her concern for me, I guess,” the small coywolf muttered as she reflected on their last meeting. She had spilled far too many secrets under her Shepard’s wise amber gaze, including her own doubts about fitting in with the clan. Would X’yrin think any differently if she knew about the purpose her student had found in her promising new rank? If she knew that the line between comrade and friend was finally beginning to fade with some of the other Infernians?

“Someday the wrong coyote will come across her, I know.” She rolled her shoulders and tried not to let that train of thought follow its inevitable course. Not only would X’yrin be taking on more than she could handle—Exultare or not, she had not fought against the trained warriors of the often violent clan—but if it led to conflict, they could trace the cause back to Vesper’s carelessness in choosing friends. “I’ll speak to her again and hope she can see sense. We usually meet halfway.” That admission had her ears lowering a degree, sheepishly; she hadn’t really confessed her relationship with her mentor to anyone, too fearful of being seen as a traitor. It was best to confide in her Caelum and hope for the best. “It helps a scout to have connections—and we spar.” She forced a smirk. “I no longer fall flat on my face every time I try to walk on two legs.”

Login




Remember me Lost Password?