Autumn aged, and the winds that blew through the Dampwoods to scatter the colorful leaves were chillier each and every day. The carpet upon which the coywolf walked betrayed almost every step, crunching unless she took the time to brush the browning, curled leaves aside. However, there was little need for stealth right now; already she had claimed a squirrel as her prize. Its bushy tail lolled from her jaws, swinging as she trotted along. The prey animals fled under her crunching footsteps, but she could really care less at this point whose meal she scared away.

Vesper was at an emotional high today, feeling successful and content if not ecstatic about the world around her. Rarely did such blissful happiness last, but she was glad for the meal and the familiar scenery of the northern forest. She had spent countless days traveling, running as far as the Western Tangles before doubling back to what was familiar. She would have spent more time exploring the western edge of the peninsula as she had intended, but with the threat of winter looming closer each day, she wanted to settle down in a place that she somewhat knew.

She dropped the squirrel, which she’d gotten halfway through devouring when a crow had begun to bother her. It was rare for one of the dark birds to hover so incessantly around a predator with only a small meal; she had seen her share at large carcasses left out in the open, but she couldn’t fathom why the featherbrain had assumed she’d have any left to share.

Quickly scanning the surrounding area for any more predators that might be stupid enough to challenge her for such a meager catch, Vesper dipped her head and began to eat, tugging at the little animal’s haunches and licking her lips after several bites. The earthy taste of the forest was interlaid with the sweet taste of fresh meat, and she allowed the ghost of a smirk to crawl across her lips. Yes, she knew she should enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Perfection was attainable, but perfection was fragile, and the dark harbinger she had seen earlier in the day should have warned her of that.

Set in the Dampwoods, a little west of the halfway mark between Anathema and Inferni.

It was not long before Vesper realized she was no longer alone in the forest. Her nose was buried in the small carcass of her catch, but as she lifted her muzzle and swiped her tongue over her lips, she caught sight of two figures moving toward her through the trees. One detached from the other, padding forward confidently, outlined by the light filtering down through the red-mantled trees. The luperci was a bit young, probably a yearling at the most, but her pelt was unique and beautiful, cream dappled with brown and lilac.

As sweet as she looked, however, the stranger quickly proved herself otherwise.

Vesper had appeared indifferent, probably curious, but at the unexpected and bossy command, her coyote-large ears tipped back. She fought down her anger, the attack on her pride, and managed to transform that fire into ice. She straightened from her crouch, not without glancing derisively at the half-eaten kill, and boldly met the sky blue eyes of the creamy-brown quean.

“I’m sorry,” the coywolf said slowly, coldly, a contemptuous smirk quirking one corner of her lips, “am I missing something? Does something give you the right to order me around, sweetheart?”

I don't mind either the wait or the date change; I don't strictly adhere to dates anyway. xD This is a bit short, but I didn't want to ramble on too much. x3

A glob of spit landed on the coywolf’s nose, and Vesper tensed before lifting her pale blue eyes to the similarly-colored ones of the mongrel. The fur along her spine was completely rigid, the anger within her slowly brewing but all the more potent for it. Unaware of the stranger’s feelings, she could only assume she was being spat upon for her blood—that of a non-luperci, strong and feral. And she was fucking tired of it.

The brown-dappled woman—the girl, really—made more noise along the lines of demanding the carcass. Why she would want some lowly bitch’s scraps was beyond Vesper, though she knew now that it was a matter of pride rather than actually desiring the meal, at least on her end. She flattened her ears, eyes darting wordlessly to the knife, a human weapon whose edge she couldn’t deny. She had seen a careless throw butcher a sheep, and she could only imagine what careful carving would do to a small hybrid’s heart. Then again, it depend on how canny she was with the blade.

And there was the man in the background—the presence that Vesper had noticed earlier but had put out of her mind until now. She wondered if the golden luperci would assist his companion in destroying her, if the young one made the first careless move.

There were warning bells going off in Vesper’s head—the dormant side that actually cared about such things when her blood was up. This wouldn’t be an easy fight by any means, but she would rather die proud than show her belly for some megalomaniacal whelp. She looked down at the squirrel, picking it up in narrow jaws almost with deference—then tossed it behind her into the bushes.

“Go get the fucking squirrel yourself,” Vesper said. >

I don't mind vague injuries and whatnot for the actual fight; you don't have to say exactly where Esme is aiming and everything. xD A bit of autohiting/powerplay is fine since Ves is supposed to be fucked up at the end of this.

+683

So the mongrel was angry. Vesper knew that her own actions were nearly as childish as the crown-wearing girl, and they were definitely prideful and stupid, but the coywolf lived by the philosophy of pride before life. She had practically raised herself after the first few critical months, and with a sister that was too dependent and a mother too apathetic to have pride, the young hybrid had craved a reason to be proud of herself. And she’d worked too hard to deserve her dignity to have it thrown away by submissively offering a piece of meat to some whelp.

Proud, stupid, and dangerous. But Vesper wasn’t pretending to be perfect.

The snarls did not bother her, but the moment that the pale hand tightened around the knife to throw it, she realized that she couldn’t turn back. A blade flew at her face, and Ves jerked to the side to avoid it—but too late. The sharp edge ran along her shoulder, and she snarled as blood welled from the cut. She had never been cut by metal before; it was a cleaner wound than one etched by canine fangs, cleaner and deeper—and it made her nervous.

The cream merle teenager growled at her, insulting her for the grey splotches in her patchwork pelt, and the loner stared in disbelief. Hating someone for their coat color was more laughable than hating someone for their species—having a black or tawny or purple pelt dictated what someone was less than being a coyote did.

But Vesper wasn’t laughing as the young bitch rushed toward her, the knife plunging down across her shoulders. She let out a hiss of pain, squirming, trying to dislodge the blade before it was forced too deep. The non-luperci quickly lunged for whatever was in her range, jaws wrapping around the girl’s thigh in a nasty bite. Had she a pure wolf’s gnashing jaws, she might have been able to do lasting muscle damage, but she had always been coyote in her muzzle.

Still, the blood poured, staining her white chest and splattering on the forest floor below them. There was a scream that made her ears flatten, and the wolfdog’s jaws came down on her neck. She braced herself, rolling her shoulders forward to push up her scruff so that the teeth would bite down on loose skin rather than anything important. Her pelt was striped by this point with the crimson running down, and her vision became briefly fuzzy from the loss of the precious fluid. Still, she hoped for an opening, perhaps a bite at the girl’s stomach if she could twist her scruff free—

She had forgotten about the man. Soon a different set of claws were tearing into her, and she screeched, writhing, as they dug deep. Fur and skin parted until she was covered in gashes. She managed to nip the man when he came in close with his teeth, but it was soon clear to her that she was losing this fight, and if they did not personally end her life with a twisted blade or a severed artery, the blood loss would take care of her.

It had been easy for Vesper, her pride bruised and her temperament dark, to decide to take a stand and save face rather than skulking away like a poltroon. However, as she could feel her energy sapped, feel the blood oozing down onto the forest floor, her mindset changed to a more feral one—one that craved survival rather than silly ideals about dignity.

So she went limp, whimpering to appease her assailants. Her torn body crumpled to the forest floor, her open wounds stinging as they came in contact with the grass and dirt that was splattered with the blood of all three canines, luperci and non-luperci. There was nothing else, really, that she could do—she felt mute, frozen. She was not broken yet, but she might as well have been dead for the way she sprawled out on the ground, her breathing weak, her grey-splattered tawny fur absolutely saturated with blood.

Thanks for helping change Ves! /+447

The girl called the golden wolf away, much to Vesper’s relief. She might have been able to hold her own against the cream, dappled mongrel, so long as she’d gotten away from the knife quickly enough, but the comparatively large male had become the hybrid’s downfall. At least, that was what her pride was telling her—this was a two-on-one fight, and she’d never experienced a fight like this before, because swatting aside adolescent and scared coyotes didn’t count.

Regardless of what the cause of her failure was, Vesper had failed. She winced as the blade came down again, though this time only to wipe excess blood on her already stained tawny fur. She flattened her ears and simply listened, knowing how likely it was that the woman was right—that she would bleed out in the forest, a non-luperci without purpose whose corpse no one would care about. Murdered loners weren’t entirely commonplace, but when they did fall, it was to apathy—perhaps a kind soul would bury her, but that was it.

She could only pray she was reincarnated as a viper, curled up until it struck the girl’s heel and killed her.

The death threat was nothing new. That dusky coyote by Inferni had threatened to murder her if he saw her again, and she had reciprocated the sentiment. The vow had little effect on her—other than a desire to smirk at the creative threat—but when the girl grabbed her ear roughly and lifted her up, her pretty eyes cold and sadistic, Vesper whimpered again. She did not have the strength to jerk away, and she could only shudder at the fangs in her face. It didn’t seem like the girl was bluffing, though her actions would probably be out of insanity rather than anything else. The hybrid could only curl up into a tighter ball, trying to avoid pain—though a very pathetic yelp escaped her, and she wheezed as she was kicked in the ribs. If there was any mercy she wouldn’t bleed internally in addition to externally, or if so, her death would hopefully be swift.

Vesper waited a long time after the footsteps of her assailants had faded, and then she very slowly pushed herself onto all fours. She groaned loudly, gritted her teeth, and looked in the direction they had left. Her vision swam as soon as she took a step, and a bleeding leg crumpled underneath her. Only the lack of a stabbing pain in her ribs gave her hope that nothing was broken, and so she dragged herself, paw by paw, to somewhere else, anywhere else.

Not quite aware that she was headed toward Inferni.