history is written by the victors

Myrika Tears · 02-28-2012, 02:33 AM

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As Myrika continued talking, talking became easier -- her words were motions she knew how to make, rather like the cuts and slices she'd made in the rabbit to separate pelt from flesh. Ezekiel, Gabriel, Kaena, Roane, Segodi, Kidorah, Kaena, Arlo, Kaena, and Zarah, the coyote said, saying the names slowly so Vesper did not become overwhelmed. All the Aquilas -- well, it was a different word sometimes, but the leaders, anyway. She knew little of any but Ezekiel, Gabriel, and Kaena -- the scarred old woman had spoken of the rest only briefly, explaining the various details and accomplishments (if there were any) during the particular leader's reign and little of their personalities or relations to herself. The Causarius had been particularly denigrating regarding her first two stints as Inferni's leader, though to Myrika it had sounded rather like the scarred woman had held the clan together through peril.

The fire -- well. Inferni started out way over the mountains. Have you ever been up over them? Between Ichika and Anathema, and over the mountain, I mean. The whole territory's burned to ashes, and the fire -- here, she turned to Vesper and emphasized with a one-handed gesture to illustrate the fire's importance -- that was what drove Inferni out of their old territory and into this one. The clan used to live way up north, along the beaches up that way, and when the fire came, Gabriel led them through a pass in the mountain to safety. Inferni was the only one of those old wolf packs to survive the flames, she said, repeating almost verbatim what her scarred grandmother said. Kaena seemed immensely proud of Inferni for its survival of the fire.

Kaena didn't know its cause. I don't think anyone does, she added, shrugging and frowning as she looked into her fire. Strange how something could be so destructive and beneficial. Myrika didn't doubt for a second the fire would consume the inside of her brick schoolhouse, leaving nothing but a burnt shell, but luckily, the outside of the building was brick, and the overhang some kind of metal. It was highly unlikely to burn even if she lost control of her fire. The rust-hued coyote turned the rabbit around on her spit, pulling it out to check on the state of her cooking. She stuck it back over the fire with a flexuous, well-toned arm and nodded. Should be done soon, the woman said, pausing here with the information overload so Vesper might have a moment to process.

Myrika is by Alaine!

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