The rage was more apparent than ever to Kaena, exploding outward from him in a near mushroom cloud. It was almost visible in the air around him, snapping and burning upwards from the line of spiked golden and black fur that had risen along his spine. The silver-furred coyote did not know what she'd done; she did not fully comprehend what she had unleashed on Inferni and Gabriel, but she saw it—his shoulders were broad and strong, his body stood beautifully against the waves of rage, but even then, the silver-furred hybrid could almost see them sagging with the added weight of the admission she'd just given him. This was something else for Gabriel to absorb, something else for him to consider in the grand scheme of leadership, something else he did not need to weigh heavily on his mind. This was simply one more burden for him to bear, and the silver-furred Centurion simply did not want to be the straw to break the camel's back.
The silver-furred coyote felt his body quiver and quake and she drew back, almost fearful. Her eye had opened to look at him by now, and the tears had yet to cease; they still drifted their way down her cheek. It was a funny thing, the one-eyed hybrid crying—half of her face remained dry, the other half did all the crying. Perhaps it took on extra tears since her dead socket had no way to release them. It had been so long since she'd cried; the silver-furred coyote could not recall the last time she had done such a thing. Still convinced she was to receive retribution, the hybrid woman waited for it to crash down on her head, still regarding the golden-and-black furred hybrid with a strange wariness in her eye.
He spoke, and the hybrid marveled at the single words, simple and effective. She was not to be sorry to Gabriel? Why? Of anyone she might have lain this burden on, she should have been sorry to him above all of them—he carried this burden heavily, moreso than any of the others she might have told, because this weight was just one more added to that of being a leader. She had been in his paws before, she had experienced that herself. It was certainly no picnic. "It was my fault," she said plainly, some small and feeble part of her still nearly praying he would deny this statement, praying he would tell her it was all alright. Gabriel was not one for comfort, though, and his next words were perhaps more comforting than anything he could have given her. A small smile sprouted on the silver-furred canine's face, just barely breaking through the tears and shame, just barely showing on her scarred muzzle before disappearing again, somehow still convinced she was at fault, somehow still sure she would receive punishment for this crime. The silver-furred canine could not imagine herself as the victim in this situation; her mind simply could not process the situation in such a way.
<style>
.kae-disorder p {padding:0px 35px 10px 35px; margin:0px; text-indent:30px;}
.kae-disorder b {color:#ffffff;}
.kae-disorder {background-color:#40245F; padding-bottom:217px; padding-top:10px; border:1px solid #000000; background-image:url(http://digital-bonsai.com/katew/rp/kae/kae_disorder.jpg); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; font-family:trebuchet ms; font-size:13px; color:#A376B4; letter-spacing:.1pt; word-spacing:1pt; line-height:14px; width:420px; text-align:justify; }
</style>[/html]