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Eris is by Savannah!
The beauty of Salsola in spring was lost on the dark-furred Auxiliary. Though the marshes of the Mazatl territory bloomed with wide swaths of delicate white flowers, purple grasses that feasted the horses as well as any Last Supper, and pale purple blossoms of the smokeable plant she so adored, the dark-shaded hybrid was still in the dead of winter. She had spent most of her recent days within her ruins in her four-legged form, beneath the ground or tucked into the pile of furs at the rear of her lean-to. They smelled of her children, and she wanted to be reminded of her brood above all.
It was the kitten that drew her out of her misery, too. The little orange one needed to be fed, and it was for this the sable coyote had departed from her ruins, seeking any mice and other small creatures she could find scurrying about. She had returned with a veritable feast for the fast-growing cat, who hunkered near the dark hybrid's dead fireplace, eating messily. The ashes were old; the dark woman had burned no fires since seeing Larkspur go up in flames alongside his red devil.
As the dark woman watched Amini eat, the sound of a howl, low and nearby, caught her attentions. She stood, stiffly, and walked to the front of her ruins, peering out at Isabella with suspicious green-yellow eyes. Sandalio, too, had awakened, and complained noisily with a strange shrieking noise. The hybrid pressed her ears against her mane and glowered toward the bird, returning her gaze to Isabella a moment later. Come in, if you'd like, the Auxiliary said, stepping back into the shade of her home.
It was messier than it usually was within; Molcaxitl had been nowhere to be found the last few days -- or was it weeks, since the Halifax encounter? Eris found did not care if the coyote was with her daughters, run away, or dead. What did a slave matter in the wake of Larkspur's death, Harrow's seeming disappearance?
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