The borders had not been supremely busy as of late; the scarred hybrid had grown lax in her patrol. This was not to say she did not live on the borders -- every day she did patrol, but patrolling did not consume her time as it might have in warmer times. The winter had been harsh on the old woman, and her creaking bones and stiffened joints were a testament to that. She did yearn for summer, a strange turn from her stance when she had first returned to Inferni. After experiencing the sweltering summers further south, the silver-shaded hybrid wanted nothing more than a good cold Nova Scotian winter. Now, though, in the midst of her second winter, the eleven-year-old would have traded her tail for the summer to return.

A howl roused the coyote's attention, and her twisted sable ear flicked toward the source of the sound, halting her progression around the territory for a moment. She listened intently, discerning from the voice that someone was waiting for her attention. The Centurion did not hesitate as the notes of the howl faded away; she moved with haste toward the source of the sound, trotting with surprising ease for someone of her age. It was not without some help, of course -- the substances provided by Clover and her sisters were perhaps the only reason the scarred woman was able to be up and moving anymore. The morning arthritis was killer.

Of course, all of this and more she hid from her clanmates, her son -- she would never have let on how bad she felt sometimes. It was an alien thing to the coyote, who had been injured many times before. This time, however, there were no injuries to heal -- this was simply her body breaking down on her. The one-eyed coyote could not get used to this fact, and she forcibly shoved it from her mind as she approached the newcomer, a practiced indifference plastered on her scarred face. This one looked tired -- his eyes and body both spoke volumes of exhaustion. The old woman could not help but notice his outstanding feature -- the pearly tips of white extending past his lips, showing plainly against his charcoal-shaded coat. This she noted with interest; it was a feature she had not seen in many, certainly not for a long time. “What can I do for you?” she asked, not a hint of warmth to her voice.

She had seen this scenario far many more times than she could count; the words for those numbers did not exist within Kaena's mind. This was not to say she had ceased to be surprised or impressed. She had lived a long time, but she was not so jaded that she had ceased to find new wonder in the world. When that happened, the Centurion rather thought she would have preferred death and silence. So long as there was still some newness to the world, life was certainly still worth living. Age had altered her perspective on death, naturally -- the silver-shaded coyote certainly did not court death as she had in reckless youth. Now she ran, best as she could -- it would seem in creating something for herself, she had given herself reason to live and thus, reason to fear death. There was no avoiding the inevitable forever, though.

The hybrid's head dipped forward, a sign of respect toward the old woman. As always, such signs were both relished and hated; she could not help the puff of wolfish pride rising within her, and yet she disliked that pride just as much for the sheer fact that it was wolfish instinct calling. “Inferni,” she responded. “I am Kaena Lykoi, Centurion of it. Do you seek to join us, then?” she responded, business-like and wishing for these encounters to be swift as possible. There was no point to standing around in the freezing cold when he was tired and she was already quite knowledgeable in how these affairs proceeded. Her single eye focused on his adornments, the bird skull around his neck, and the faintest hint of a smile showed on her face. “You'd fit in, wearing that,” she said, reddish nose tipping toward the necklace. “We like our dark style,” the hybrid added, referencing the dangling skulls decorating the coyote clan's own border.

“Not quite bored,” she corrected, albeit gently. “Just been here many times before,” she said, referring to the situation in general. “But it is cold,” the hybrid added, now her smile remaining a bit longer. She did not wish for the newcomer to think she disliked him or greeting newcomers; there was a certain monotony to her duty, of course, but she would perform it with no less vigor, just slightly less enthusiasm. It was a necessary thing, and she would never have actively voiced a complaint. The clan needed fresh blood, after all -- there was never a time they did not. Coyotes came and went, it seemed -- the hybrid had not lived in a wolf pack for many years, so she could not accurately compare their number fluctuations with those in wolf packs, but she would have guessed it was significantly lower.

Coyotes were less social than wolves, and she knew somewhere that it was their mixed blood that had held Inferni together. When the pure-bloods had reigned over the clan, they were little more than loosely scattered allies, drifting in and out. Inferni had nearly died more times than Kaena liked to think about during those times. She, a half-coyote, had failed at leadership twice. Without question, Gabriel was their most successful leader -- he had saved the clan from the flames that had consumed their prior homeland, and he had not faltered in his guidance and direction of the clan. They had survived two wars and probably avoided another with Gabriel at the helm, and he was positively wolfish. Perhaps that was the key to his success.

“At this rate, Inferni will be one giant smoke signal,” the hybrid said, again a half-smile appearing on her reddish muzzle. “Do you cultivate it, or do you have any other skills the clan might find useful?” she asked. They were stocked full of canines with a particular skill for cultivating the green things, but with a large greenhouse, the silver-shaded hybrid did not think they could have too many. The more use they got of the thing, the better.