lift me up out of darkness.

Kaena Lykoi · 04-20-2010, 06:03 AM

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477

The fire had been a source of contemplation for Kaena, but she had not witnessed it herself; she did not know of the agony that had leapt forth from the flames. The silver-furred coyote might have been distraught had she known Arkham's disappearance was with the fire, even—but to Kaena, it was simply a source of pride. It had been the ultimate test. With the flames eating the land, the packs and Inferni had been put to the test, and only Inferni had passed. This hardly struck the hybrid as curious; there was no doubt in her mind it was merely an advantage over wolfkind that they had survived, nothing more. A more curious mind might have questioned why only the coyote clan had lived, why the fire had spread from the beaches across the land—but the silver-furred coyote was content to call it a test, one that Inferni had passed with flying colors.

“No. I don't think anyone does,” she replied, rolling her coal-dusted shoulders in a slow shrug. It was not a pressing issue to Kaena, really—she had lost nothing in the fire. “War is waged on us, too. More often than we wage war,” the coyote said gently, correcting him. They started it—petulant even in her mind. But the hybrid coyote was different, she did not like to walk away from a fight. She did not value life as Razekiel seemed to, though his next words surprised her, the good brow over her remaining eye drawing upward slightly. “It's war,” she said, quietly. “You kill to protect what you love,” the hybrid said. “Some are content to turn the other cheek, but not us.” In another lifetime, Kae might have praised him for killing, but she had changed. The years had done something to her, and now she was not so sure it was a good thing—the sadness reflected in the pale russet face of her son told her it was not a good thing Razekiel had killed.

His words indicated there was no reversion to his old self in him, though—he contemplated his siblings and the hybrid remained quiet, glad she did not have to entertain questions. Questions inevitably led to lies when it came to Eris—why was she so different from her siblings? Larger, wolfish, and her eyes! The unearthly shade of chartreuse yellow that was the perfect mix of Salvaged's color and her own. She was blasphemy; she had always been. She should not have existed. “It's you, you know,” she said, faking crossness—a rare moment of awkward playfulness from the hybrid. “Look at you, all a man and all grown up—and still so sweet to me,” she said, reaching out to squeeze at the younger canine's arm affectionately. “No wonder I have the moon in my eye, hm?” she said, grinning.

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