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Myrika is by me!
While the tawny-furred hybrid was able to give a silent thanks that she needed to display no more dominance than the tiny thing she'd done and she relaxed accordingly, Myrika's mind dwelt on the could-have been. What if he had come to contest her rule or challenge her? She was no fighter, only a messy killer by luck and happenstance. She hadn't even needed to do the killing on her own -- Ithiel had been there for one and Vesper for the other. Her own doubts and fears needed to be pushed aside, however, for there was one with more pressing anxieties just before her, showing them on his shifting posture and pained face plainly as if he'd spoken them aloud.
The redhead hesitated a moment, both arms dropping to her sides as she crouched down to a level with the snowy coyote. I'm sure he had his reasons. She couldn't begin to speculate what they were; her cousin had always been more private than Myrika, and the tawny-furred coyote had spent much of their time together talking on subjects she wished to speak on rather than Ezekiel himself. If only she'd listened better, perhaps she might be able to make a guess. As it was, she hadn't even that.
He should have told you -- he should have told all of us, I think, she continued, gently. He didn't, though. He did what he had to. You can be angry at him if you need to -- I think that's justified -- but I also think it might be better to think about what he gave us and the good he did for us. Her voice was soft, spoken like one sharing advice rather than preaching or instructing. Perhaps Max needed more anger than her -- insofar as she knew, he'd left the pale coyote little. She, at least, had Inferni to be thankful for.
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