Word Count :: 320

There had been relative quiet on the borders as of late, though the newcomers had begun to trickle in once again. They always seemed to come in waves; for long months, none would approach the skull-rimmed edges of the coyote territory, and then suddenly, three or four would show up within the span of a few days. The silver-shaded coyote had, as always, kept close watch on their borders. It was difficult in the winter, no doubt, but the Centurion refused to slack at her duties. She was not so old that she was incapable of performing them anymore -- it was simply a matter of keeping her struggles and difficulties secretive. The arthritis was nothing new; the stiffness in her joints had only seemed to increase with the passing of the winter months. Thankfully, the greens provided by her granddaughters and son were enough to keep her up and moving. The old hybrid did not think this was seen as a sign of weakness or pain, but she of course had no way to tell.

The coyote's nose twitched, and she tilted her russet muzzle back to the breeze, inhaling the sharp coldness of the air. Her remaining eye scanned the edges of their territory relentlessly, seeking the source of these strange scents. She started off at a slow walk, tracking after these unfamiliar scents. Though her pace was hardly blistering, there was a certain urgency to her step -- one of these scents was young, and as always, concern for the youth lingered in her. As the hybrid approached the young canine, she noticed the other scent-carrier was nowhere to be seen. Twisting her head this way and that with undue caution, the woman halted a good distance from the youth, her yellow-golden eye narrowed. “Are you alone, little one?” she asked, natural suspicion aroused at the thought of a carefully set trap, using a pup as bait.

From the distance, the silver-shaded Centurion could not see the scars, but she could see the damage -- the ripped and torn ear, much like her own. An almost involuntary step forward propelled her toward the youth, despite her reservations and suspicions. There was quiet around him, and the silver-shaded coyote could smell the other scent now, heading off in a different direction -- alone. This was no trap. Suspicions satisfied, the scarred woman walked forward slowly, her yellow-golden eye focused on the frightened little thing. At the present moment, the clan had no youthful blood -- the last had been Itachi, and Kaena could not recall when children had been born into their clan last before him.

As she approached, the young child spoke of a father -- presumably, the cowardly scent that retreated away from their borders. A spark of hot anger rose in the hybrid woman's throat, and she leaned down to nudge the whimpering youth with the tip of her muzzle, attempting to comfort him. “It's okay. Your daddy brought you to me,” she said, leaning back to sit on her haunches quite near to the youth. She would not force herself on him, but she existed for his comfort, should he seek it out. “Unwanted? Is that your name?” the coyote asked. There was no question within her that this youth was Inferni's now; she would not leave him to the harshness of the neutral territories and the wolves.

Word Count :: 349

The old woman surveyed the youth quietly, her remaining eye taking stock of the damage inflicted on his young body. She was no stranger to damages and injuries, no stranger to injuries inficted by those who were meant to be closest to her. The thick and knotted scars above each of her eyes had existed nearly as long as she had -- Delphine had put them there, forever reminding the scarred woman just who she belonged to, just where she came from. The hybrid listened to the youth carefully, an apparent frown appearing on her scar-knotted face as the youth showed just how his mother had looked at him. She knew that look, and she could recall it with near-perfect clarity. Her mother's features had long faded from memory -- the old Centurion could no longer recall just what Delphine looked like -- but that look, that look had never left her.

“Momma's gone now, you don't have to worry about her anymore,” the coyote said softly, leaning down to rest her nose on the puppy's shoulder. “Do you want to stay here in Inferni, with me? I will take care of you,” she offered, believing the child would make the right choice -- no one wanted to be alone, after all, and certainly Unwanted realized that adults took care of him. The old coyote would not force anything upon him, but neither would she let him leave Inferni -- if anything, she would take him to one of the packs, and hope that they would find it in their hearts to care for the hybrid puppy.

She did not know why his father had abandoned him, and so she remained silent as to the potential reasons for his abandonment. She did not care, anyway -- those that would leave their children did not deserve to have them. She had done the same with Kerberos and Maeryn when she realized she could not take care of them, and she could not hold it against the nameless father of this child for making the best decision possible for his offspring.

<3

The hybrid woman smiled as the caramel-shaded youth excitedly spoke of her other children. “Most of them are much older than you. But some of my grandchildren might play with you? China, Sage, and Clover are all very nice,” she said, speaking softly to the youth. She frowned at his statements, leaning forward to nuzzle him with her scarred muzzle. “My mama did the same thing,” she whispered to him. “I had three sisters, and I don't have anyone but my children and their children anymore,” the coyote said, alluding to the fact that everyone she had ever known as a child was dead -- mother, father, sisters, half-brother, step-mother. Anyone else who she might have known was long-dead of old age or worse, she suspected -- few had the longevity to live as long as she and Kesho seemed to. “That just means we're stronger than our siblings,” the hybrid said, confirming to the youth what he already suspected.

The coyote leaned back and away from him, smiling at his attempts to pronounce her name. “You got it,” she said, punctuating the sentence with a smile.. “Yes, you'll be a Lykoi. There are many of us,” the coyote said. She did not know this youth, but she knew that he was hers -- even without her blood, she would raise him and he would be a testament to her good intentions, unlike Itachi. Makhesthai would be her darling, and she would guard him from whatever vileness had seeped into Itachi. Had she known the truth of his bloodline, it would have made sense. “Maki for short?” she suggested. Longer names deserved nicknames, and Maki was just adorable.