There was something decidedly poetic about the sound of waves crashing on the beach and the taste of salt remaining when one swiped their tongue over their lips. Poetry was usually folly, but these sensations were not lost on the loner pacing along the shoreline. She knew to enjoy the quiet moments like these but not to lionize them; it was a lovely balance, and balance was essential to life. One could not give in to silly whims, but one could not march through life indulging in only the most basic urges.

Her thirst wasn’t too pressing, but Vesper’s hunger was ruining the content demeanor she’d had. She looked out at the water and moved more quickly along the coastline, wondering if she could catch a seabird off guard or steal its eggs. She swept her tongue around her mouth.

As it so happened, however, she did not need to bother. A glimmer of silver at the edge of the damp sand piqued her interest, and as she trotted closer, she realized it was a sizable dead fish that had washed up on shore. The ocean had only recently given its gift; no birds or scavengers had been at it yet. She gave the thing a sniff, wondering if it was okay to eat, then grabbed the tail in her jaws and pulled it with her to the edge of the beach, where the sands soon gave way to cracked pavement and vegetation.

Here, Vesper was quick to wolf down her meal. Predictably, it had a taste that could only be described as “salty” and “fishy,” but as it slid into her stomach, she could care less what it had tasted like. She licked her lips again, this time with satisfaction, and settled down at the edge of the sand warmed by the mid-morning sun. She sighed, resting her chin on her forelegs, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off for a quick nap.

Like I said, I might have to forward- or backdate this in my own timeline. xD I don't know how much you care about specific dates though.

For one who saw dreams just as the mind’s way of coping without sensory information, as pictures that played at their leisure behind closed eyelids, Vesper was plagued by nightmares surprisingly often.

She wouldn’t really call them “nightmares,” but they were always replays of the less savory parts of her life, or sinister alternative realities. Sometimes she dreamed of Juniper, of Oliver and his snapping words, and her injured hind paw would twitch behind her. Sometimes she dreamed of a failed hunt, warped so that she slunk away with a bruised rib that soon punctured a lung. Sometimes—the worst times—she dreamed of stepping onto ice that cracked, dropping her into freezing depths, refreezing over her head.

This time she dreamed of a black face, teeth shimmering yellow-white in a gaping maw. The face was raised above her, but it struck down swift as a snake, and a hot line of pain cut across her brow. Those teeth closed on her ear, ripping it in half. Blood was in her eyes then, and she recoiled, snarling, not wanting to give up, but a tall body—oh so tall, she had been even smaller then—shoved her to the ground.

This was the part where her father jumped on her, tearing his fangs across her hips as she struggled. It was the part where he leaped away once she’d managed to tear his lip, where he muttered what a pity it was, where he left her alone and her sister tagged along.

In the dream, however, small Sparrow grinned sinisterly, her father’s daughter, and jumped in to bite Ves while she was down.

Teeth connected in her heel, and the coywolf let out a high-pitched snarl of fury, whirling around and wrinkling her lips back over teeth and gums gleaming with ropes of saliva. She realized she was no longer in a dream when the sight of a cat’s departing tail and the watery horizon greeted her. She leaped up in the grassy-covered sand, too furious to cool down as she usually wound. Her dream had sent a pulse of adrenaline through her, and she wanted to rend the feline’s flesh from its bones.

She chased after the cat, snarling still, her tail straight out behind her as she sprinted toward it. She was beginning to catch up when another shape—canine, merle with hints of black and orange around a face—appeared ahead of her. She slowed down but did not stop, her blue eyes fleeting only briefly across the dog’s face before they sought out the cat again.

Oh, she was going to destroy it.

Just in case it was unclear -- she's still following/looking for Nana, but she's moving more at a grouchy trot. xD So Bambi can move in her way or whatever you wanted to do. ^^

Vesper’s entire focus was on the black cat, and as such, she was surprised when the dog she’d barely acknowledged leaped in front of her. A snarl ripped out of the tricolor canine, and the coywolf froze in her tracks, legs splayed. She let out a snarl to match, ears flattening and hackles rising. Instinct told her that this creature was in the way of her prey—would fight her for her prey. Emotion told her that she was pissed and ready to rip into any animal that looked at her funny. Sense was on hold for the moment, along with her composure.

She bunched her legs underneath her then jumped at the dog, landing a few feet away, just out of biting range. The lunge was meant to unnerve the opponent more than anything else. She remained light on her toes, eyes narrow as she looked the other female over.

The familiar process of actually sizing up a foe before attacking brought some calmness to the loner, and with a blink of her eyes, she stepped back, realizing that she was about to tussle with this stranger over a damned cat. Her ears remained flattened, and she let out one more growl, but she took a few more steps backwards and loosened her posture a bit to show the grey-and-black-splashed dog she wasn’t going to fight.

“What the hell are you doing protecting a stupid cat?” Vesper demanded to know, baring her fangs a brief, irritated moment.

Yours was fine; mine sucks. xD Also, do you mind if I set this for the 26th? I realized I had a lot of threads bunched around the same time. ><

Vesper had to admire this canine’s bravery; she was dead set on protecting the damned feline, it seemed, and didn’t back off after her aggressive display. She had to admire someone who had backbone, no matter how irritated she was; she had dealt with wimps far too often to find it “cute” anymore. While most simply thought that the proud loner liked to think she was superior to everyone, she found equals refreshing. Her arrogance bordered on narcissism sometimes, but she still had the empathy that made it possible for her to form actual relationships. She might have cracked a smirk and commented on the other female’s guts if not for the tense situation.

The canine seemed to be a dog—no other canines that Vesper knew of had such richly colored and patterned coats. Blue eyes such as the ones this young woman possessed were also more common among dogs; Vesper’s own evening-sky color was merely a fluke of genetics and possible hybridization even beyond her parents’ and grandparents’ lines.

The dog’s eyes darted away from her a brief moment, flickering with concern over the dark cat that had sought refuge underneath her. To the coywolf’s shock, the cat instructed her to keep her focus.

It can speak? Vesper turned her ears toward the smaller creature, a frown creasing her lips.

The dog spoke then, responding to her irritable question. “She protects me.”

Vesper smirked coldly, showing a bit of tooth. She couldn’t imagine a dog—especially one almost of wolf size—being protected by prey. “It seems to be the other way around now,” she remarked coolly, though more of the aggression had left her body. She had found her composure again, that mask of ice that hid the flames underneath. Often, the mask melted with the intensity of her anger and adrenaline, but more often than not she could control herself before a fight actually started. Also contrary to popular belief, Ves didn’t like getting into random tussles, even if she enjoyed the fights themselves. They were often a waste of energy and blood.

The silence that followed might have been uncomfortable for one not used to having no conversation partners. As it was, the coywolf simply took the time to appraise the dog in return. Once again, she took note of the rich tricolor pelt—exotic to the hybrid, and lovely—and also noted the other female had to be around her age, give or take a few months. She also smelled of a luperci, though Vesper didn’t pay attention to this detail while she was in a four-legged form.

“At any rate, you can relax,” the loner said nonchalantly before her icy eyes fell upon the cat again. “I do believe that your…protector has some suicidal tendencies, however. Either that, or she likes to eat heels.” She glanced quickly at her hind foot; she had gotten the one that was already damaged, its furthest toes torn off by coyote jaws, but the cat had only given it a sharp nip. It’d already stopped bleeding.

The dog nodded, going along with the hybrid’s story as she hinted at her reasoning for chasing the blasted feline. Vesper was glad that she wasn’t instantly jumping to her companion’s side, though that also meant the cat probably frequently got into trouble. The thought made her smirk until the canine addressed the orange-eyed cat, apparently shocked.

The feline slipped out from underneath her protector’s belly, and without really knowing it, the coywolf gave a quick sniff. Her large brown-rimmed ears lowered close to her head with irritation as the conversation continued, this time between cat and dog. Apparently, the dog was pissed at her “protector’s” behavior, which made Vesper smirk with satisfaction from her seated position on the sand. Hopefully the other female could chew the cat out, which was an okay alternative to Vesper literally doing so.

She was about to suggest they knock the cat around to teach it a lesson—maybe playfully—when the cat strutted off with a hiss over her shoulder: “Bite your tongue, dear. Before one of them bite it for you.”

The coywolf growled once after the cat, though she did not yet know that the words had been a significant jab. She was about to make some remark on the situation when a whine made her sharply turn her head toward the mottled dog. Those blue eyes were lost, set in a fearful face; she trembled and stepped back, a final whine keening from her mouth.

As she shook and cried, Vesper stood still, expression one of surprise, confusion, and unease. Her first instinct was to run off; she wouldn’t want others to come and comfort her, so perhaps the dog wanted to be left alone, too. However, another instinct combated that one—an instinct to reach out and comfort and protect.

I tried that. I tried to protect Sparrow, but I was too weak. I tried to protect Juniper, but she wasn’t loyal. There’s no point in helping others out.

Vesper took in a deep, quiet breath and glanced briefly out to the ocean, watching the waves roll in and out, in and out, a rhythm accompanied by a soft hiss and growl each time the water slithered up and down the shore. The sand was warm underneath her paws, and there were only a few strides’ distance between her and the crying girl. She made up her mind.

The coywolf walked to her, announcing her approach with lowered ears and a quiet whine meant to show she wasn’t dangerous. She slunk close then sat down beside her, hoping that the dog wouldn’t jerk away. Her slender muzzle reached slowly over to nuzzle against her neck and ear.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.” Vesper’s voice was low, almost a croon. “You’re okay. You’re safe with me, all right? I didn’t get these scars sitting on my ass when the people I cared about were in danger.” Her lips pulled upwards, almost a smile. “What’s your name? I’m Vesper.”

A soft muzzle brushed against the thick fur of her throat, and Vesper pressed her body closer in reaction, embracing the female the best she could. Tawny fur kissed grey as she drew a tongue across a floppy dark ear, unsure of what else she could do. It was rare that she would comfort someone like this, but it was driven by the softer instincts inside her. None of the scarred fighter remained now, except for the sharpness of her mind; she was instead a woman who cared, a woman who would fight for the purpose of protection rather than pride. She didn’t know if she’d ever see the dog again, but for now, she would be there.

The dog spoke about masters coming to beat her, and her voice quickly devolved into a cry that made Vesper touch her nose firmly but gently to her shoulder, telling her silently to hush. “You were enslaved?” she asked, her voice hoarse with the shock at the thought. In all her life, she’d come across relatively little suffering. The murder of her mother and the theft of her sister had rocked her younger world, but there were worse things—such as ongoing abuse or torture. Ves hadn’t had a perfect life, but then again, she’d been strong, and she’d never suffered that kind of abuse in her life.

The dog gave her name, and Vesper repeated it softly. “Bambi.” It was such a sweet name, two syllables beginning with that ‘b’ sound, that press of lips. She smiled gently then. “Bambi. You’re safe. The masters aren’t going to punish you.” She resisted the urge to assure her she’d done nothing wrong, not wanting to trigger another memory in case she’d had.