Word Count: 420 — Lol at wordcount and I should be around for most of tomorrow? 
The cloud-colored coyote had missed out on her wild and crazy teenage years; they were filled with stress and strife, and she had skipped out on childhood and adolescence almost entirely. Even so, she was not entirely unfamiliar with substances such as the one Razekiel seemed to be so fond of—she had never been a huge fan of anything that altered one's consciousness, but the desire to draw herself from the muck and at least temporarily forget what had happened to her. Razekiel seemed more concerned with the grand scheme, but Kaena could not forget the injustices that had been personally inflicted on her. Wolfkind had not been good to the silver-furred hybrid, and it was not so easy for Kaena to forget a grudge. “For such a lover, Mother Earth sure makes awful canines,” the coyote said, though it held no derisive tone to what Razekiel said. It was a lamentation and an observation, rather, and the coyote woman could not help it; what kindly god or goddess or mother would place a being such as Haku, such as Salvaged on this earth? Well, for the latter of that pair, she had herself to thank; she had created that particular monster.
The russet-masked man spoke again after he'd delved into his bag of tricks, offering up a bottle and a tiny bag of what might have been marijuana. Kae couldn't tell without smelling; a quick inhale proved her suspicion correct. Her golden-yellow eye drew up to her son's face, looking at him as if she expected the offer to be rescinded at any moment. Gabriel probably didn't approve of such things; he would look down on her for even using them. Then again, even stern-faced Gabriel was a partier sometime or another; the silver-furred woman knew that firsthand, and so did Razekiel—assuming he remembered Halloween night. It was a vague memory for her, hazy and nonexistant after the fires were actually lit, but she knew Gabe had been there at least. “I would like that a lot. Can you... make it smoke-able?” she asked, having no idea how to ask him to roll it into a joint or pack it into a bowl for her. She had no idea how to do these things—others had always either done it for her. She was not quite so interested in the alcohol, as she'd been trying to keep away from it since her month-long binge, but if Razekiel had brought it especially for her, she would not refuse.
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