Form	Info Date: 18 Oct Words: ... 8082 >_>
Withered Realms

1. this is masturbatory in a very metaphorical sense of the word because omg kae ;_; 2. omg tl;dr - myri learns inferni & famblee history 3. oocly assumed that they've spent a bit of time in ferni together before this, and more talk along similar veins tomorrow on the journey homez. 4. mature for mentions of violence/war/rape/incest/etc. you know. the usual things entwined with fernilykoihistory. 5. a jerk would have saved this for sosuwrimo. don't be a jerk :C

The horses plodded slowly across the dusty ground, keeping a slow pace. Myrika did not want to push either of the equines, but it was not of concern for their well-being. Both were still early in pregnancy and there was little, if any, risk in exercise. It was the graying old coyote on Eira's back kept Myrika to a slower pace than she would have preferred. She did not want to jostle the old woman or take the slightest risk of spilling her over.

This was why Myrika sat upon the nameless silver mare, and Eira carried Kaena. Myri figured she could trust Eira not to throw the old woman more than this unknown female. Myri hadn't the time to truly work with this one yet, and she had no idea of the pale mare's personality. The roan mare, on the other hand, would be calm and trustworthy, excepting if they encountered extreme situation any horse would fear.

There was little talk as they had ridden over the mountain; Kaena had insisted upon it for the closeness of Ichika and Anathema's borders. When Myrika reminded the Causarius it was her own son who ruled in Ichika, the old woman had only laughed a bitter, biting sort of laugh, sharply informing Myrika the rest of Ichika and none of Anathema were her sons and daughters, to her knowledge. Myrika wasn't quite certain how Kaena knew such a thing with certainty -- there were too many family members to keep track of, too many relationships of distant blood, and a new face at every turn.

She would have to start recording them; if Kaena proposed to have such knowledge of her family and its whereabouts, perhaps she could provide the foundation for this ledger. Myrika contemplated this in silence as they passed over the center of the mountain. The strong scent of pack borders caught in Myrika's nose, and she wondered how relations were between these two groups. If it went poorly, who knew -- this free land between them might be a warzone someday.

The rusty-hued woman simply hoped they would wait until the pair of Infernians made their safe passage back to start their war, if it came. Their horses were lightly loaded, carrying supplies for one night out in this wilderness. Myri did not know if they would stay -- this still depended how far into this land they could go. She had not explored these territories, the land of her parents' birth and the root of Inferni history. Kaena had not, either, apparently.

There was a girl in Inferni... she was young, I don't remember, but young -- and she was sick. Myrika's ear twitched and both turned toward the gravelly sound of the old woman's voice. Initially, Myrika inwardly pondered how young one must be to qualify as young to Kaena, imagining this girl might be a matronly woman of six, or gods, even seven, until the old woman continued speaking. She told me there was something wrong with her bones and she was dying of it. She asked me to bury her where she was born, in one of those old wolf packs, the hybrid explained. It was a long time ago, back before either of these packs were here, I think. I came over the mountain and buried her on the edge of the pack's territory, and I left. Didn't recognize that little bit of it I saw, all burned and ruined.

There was a weight and a wistfulness to the old woman's voice, and Myrika looked over, expectant of tears or emotion or something in the scarred face. It remained impassive, stony and unreadable. Perhaps it was just the scars -- Myrika wanted to look harder, but it would have looked as if she were staring; she turned her attention back to the trail, leading the silver horse around a fallen tree, scars of fire still evident on its bark and bared patches of wood beneath. Eira followed, attached to Myrika's own saddle by rope. Myrika did not think this was absolutely necessary, but the rope seemed to put Kaena at ease, and it was decent, as far as precautions went.

Sorry, she offered, lamely; she was not sure of what to say. Sometimes, the tawny woman felt like a venemous snake let loose in an old building rife with rodent life. There were some situations that she was completely comfortable in -- this was not one of them. She wasn't certain whether she was supposed to comfort, commiserate, or simply show her awe. It didn't help that her grandmother was, at best, difficult to read -- her scarred facial expressions didn't make it easy, and the old woman seemed simply... reserved. I can't really imagine what it's like losing a home like that.

Myrika would have even doubted some of her tales of fighting and war and bloodshed, were it not for the physical evidence present on Kaena's face, across her shoulder, all over her, really. The old woman wore nothing in the way of clothes, though Myrika had insisted upon bringing four large pelts. One was a bear's pelt, an ancient and deteriorating thing that had belonged to Thamur. This would be enough to keep them both warm, but there was no harm in over-preparing. Myrika could have even hitched up the donkey and supplied them even further, but she had decided against this. The mountain was easy for the donkey to navigate and he might help keep the mare under control, but Farai was very happy with the sheep. He liked spending time with them almost as much as he liked spending time with horses. The sheep needed something to keep them calm, and in her absence, Myrika thought Farai might do as a surrogate, at least for the two days she anticipated as their lengthiest possible stay. If all went well, they'd be back before the sun even went down.

I wasn't here to see it burn, at least. I guess that's a positive, the old woman said, rolling her own scarred, thin shoulder in a shrug. Myrika glanced again at the grizzled coyote, expecting to see a shiver or some other indication of the cold, but Kaena gave none. Myrika wasn't cold -- the warmth of the horse beneath her and the purple scarf wrapped around her neck did quite enough to keep her warm, and the sun was still shining. Still, it was undeniably inching toward the colder weather -- this was apparent in the bite and snap of the wind, which had been only a cool whisper in the heat months before. Are you sure you aren't cold?

Yes. Stop asking, the coyote snapped, her ears twitching in annoyance. One was whole, perhaps only nicked here and there -- the other was a torn and chewed ruin. Myrika wondered how long it had been like that. If I get cold, I'll tell you. I don't need to be taken care of, the coyote insisted. She was, apparently, growing tired of being watched and doted upon. Wish I could thank Gabriel for all this mess, the hybrid muttered under her breath. Myrika's sharp hearing caught this anyway, and the tawny woman smiled faintly, cocking her head.

Gabriel? Why? She had arrived to the leadership of Ezekiel, Talitha, and Sage -- even history so recent as her half-uncle was mysterious to her. Most of her time had been spent investigating the territory, caring for the horses and the new sheep, and making what friendships she could in her spare time. Investigating the clan's history was on her list, and she was now getting to it. Now was the time to ask questions; she would not fritter it away and play the shy girl afraid to speak up.

Shit, has anyone told you anything? the old woman gaped, visibly awed. She went so far as to swivel awkwardly in Eira's saddle to gawk at Myrika with her single burning eye. Myrika returned her gaze casually, the corner of her mouth lifted in an apologetic and amused smile. No, grandmother. I don't know anything, she admitted, her smile broadening now. That's why I'm asking. The old woman seemed to visibly soften, turning back around to gaze out in front of them. The ruddy hybrid wondered just how good that single eye was anymore -- certainly half a lifetime of functioning solo had weakened it? She did not want to ask, but the question itched at the back of her mind, and she watched the old woman, now visibly squinting.

Her own turquiose gaze turned forward, and she saw the lands before them -- gray and flat, spreading out before them. In the misty distance, Myrika could just make out the shape of tiny hills, or perhaps even mountains. All of it was gray, even in the bright autumn sunlight. The air smelled faintly of ash and sulphur, and Myri frowned. Gabriel led Inferni before Ezekiel. Ezekiel's father, you know? He led Inferni from this land and under the mountain when the fire came. My son, the grizzled coyote spoke, her tone softer than it had been a moment ago.

Stop them, the hybrid said, though her tone carried more authority than request. Myrika complied, pulling the silver mare to a stop gently. Eira obediently paused beside the other horse, taking a step forward to rub her cheek against the snowy horse's shoulder. The mare -- Myrika herself hadn't thought of a name for the pallid horse -- whickered her approval, and Myrika turned toward the old woman, studying her scarred face once more. The Praeses thought she might have to say something, and again she was lost as to what, but her awkward silence was rescued by another bout of speech from the old hybrid.

Mmm... even if you are pesty about what I need and what I want, just like the rest of them, the crone paused, her scarred brow wrinkling as best it could. The old scar tissue seemed to pull and stretch, and the old woman's face appeared more contorted than emotive. You listen pretty damn well, I guess. You don't tell anybody what I tell you, aspiring historian. You write it down and I'll sharpen my teeth on your bones, just like the stories, the grayscale hybrid threatened, and Myrika now looked surprised, at least until she saw the twinkling hint of jest in the Causarius's single eye. Her laugh was short, but genuine -- she was too interested in what the old woman would say next.

We led Inferni -- two years? Almost. We led Inferni together for that time, him and I. We'd done it before, but I was the Aquila and he was my Centurion, though it was a different name then. This time, I was his subordinate, and he led the clan more justly than I could have, in all truth. I would have served there until I died, but he asked me not to... he told me to step down, I mean, the old woman said. Her voice was clipped, rapid -- this was a pace the tawny hybrid had not heard Kaena speak in before, and her cerulean eyes focused intently on the other woman, picking up on the faintest shift in body language. Now the old woman hunkered, hunched -- it was barely a degree more than she had already, but her shoulders were also dropped, her head half an inch lower.

You've said to me before, you asked to step down... that wasn't the truth, Myrika said, her tone dry and observational -- there was no question to it. You act ashamed to be treated as old, the coyote continued, her tone still observational but now more troubled, hesitant. The old woman might not like what she said at all next, and Myrika expected a reaction, and she did not anticipate a positive one. But you are, you know. What's the shame of nature taking its course? she asked, her voice now more gentle. She steadied herself, expecting to see one of those scarred arms lashing out. Kaena said nothing, however, and merely peered ahead with that stone-faced gaze, her good eye visible to Myri, the scarred and bulging tissue on the far side of her face invisible for the moment.

I don't think it's something you understand until you experience it, the woman finally said, gruffly. Gabriel didn't, not until he got knocked off a mountain. There was a hint of terrible bitterness in her voice, though it was faint and far away. Maybe one of these horses will knock you off and break your leg, and it don't heal right. Or maybe you'll get lucky and it'll just scramble the brains in that pretty little head, and you won't even realize the way others look at you and treat you. Now there was genuine anger in her voice, and Myrika began to regret the direction the conversation had taken. Her ears folded back in apology, and her mouth set downward into a frown.

I'm sorry. I don't understand, and I shouldn't have given you advice you didn't ask for, the russet hybrid offered, her head tilting toward the ground. She nervously twirled a strand of the silver mare's mane, and looked up at the scarred woman again, surprised to find her passive once more. Her emotions were fickle, it seemed -- Myrika might have guessed this earlier, if she had any insight to the woman's emotive qualities whatsoever. This was one of the first times Kaena had clearly shown anything, however, and Myrika was genuinely sorry it had been anger to surface first.

No. You're right -- it is just nature taking its course, after all. I took care of my children and now, they take care of me. And their children, too. Let's go, I guess, the old coyote said, shrugging her shoulder. Myri supposed it was as good an end as any they were liable to get with such a sore spot, and she nodded, digging her heels into the mare's sides and urging her forward. They did not speak for a long time, and the burned territories passed by slowly. Summer's greenery had faded earlier here; evidence of late blooming plants such as on the far side of the mountain were utterly absent; the land seemed bare and dead already.

There was a steady crunch beneath the horses' hooves, and Myrika looked down and was surprised to see what appeared to be a carpet of chunks, splinters, and pieces of wood. Half-rotting logs were strewn here and there, coming to pieces. All of it had burned and died, and now it was sprawling across the earth here, sure to fertilize the next generation of plant life. Myrika wondered with excitement what this land might look like, given time -- surely it would explode with life again someday. Her thoughts drifted lazily and they continued on in silence, though Myrika did not think Kaena was quiet for their earlier conversation. Her head twisted this way and that, golden eye wide and absorbing the landscape with seeming awe.

What was it like before the fire? the tawny hybrid asked after what might have been another forty minutes of travel. Her voice was timid, uncertain -- given the timespan, she had begun to genuinely worry that Kaena had been entirely offended and now would spend the rest of the journey in utter silence. She could imagine this land fertile and unburnt easily enough, but the silence had begun to actively agitate her. Inferni, I mean. Not this place -- I'm not that unimaginative, she said, a tittering laugh escaping her lips. Kaena snorted her own amusement, and the old woman leaned back, stretching a little. Myrika was comfortable on horseback, but she hadn't thought of how uncomfortable this might be for the older canine. She almost asked if Kaena was alright and remembered their earlier conversation.

There were more coyotes by far. There was a litter of purebred coyote puppies born into Inferni, once upon a time, the old woman said, laughing. Myrika's confusion was apparently obvious on her face, for the old woman narrowed that yellow-golden eye suspiciously, a strange smile spreading across her russet-splashed muzzle, predecessor to the one covering Myrika's own snout. Coyotes, not hybrids, she clarified, and realization dawned on the younger woman's face.

You don't like being a hybrid, the russet woman said, dismayed. Her own blood had never concerned her much; she had always just thought of herself as Myrika Tears -- labels were something to be avoided. She knew she was a coyote and a wolf, and probably something else -- but she had never wanted to make the distinction between wolf and coyote. Her own large ears and petite muzzle had been a favored target of the Thornloe children, mostly wolves and dogs in species. In Inferni, however, big ears and tiny muzzle seemed to be the norm; Myrika recalled Valkyrie and her lovely coyote features, and even this eldery coyote here before her was clearly more coyote than wolf.

Kaena's voice was steady: these were thoughts she had clearly mulled over for a long time, and Myrika listened intently, turning to gaze at the grayscale woman as she spoke. When Inferni was coyotes and coyotes alone, our loyalty was thin, and our leadership... well, we didn't hold together. I don't have much room to talk -- I led Inferni twice as its Aquila, once as its Centurion, and you can call me failure for the first two, too old for the third. I was one of those early failed leaders. Then, I thought of myself as a coyote and, yes, I hated that I was not a coyote in whole, in truth.

Inferni had a good coyote leader, true enough -- her name was Kidorah. She conceded land that belonged to Inferni to the wolf pack Syemv, and I disliked this act of hers, but other than this misstep, she was a good leader. She kept our numbers strong. Segodi, too, was good in these ways -- but none of these were lasting leaders, none provided stability. The old woman paused here, taking a few breaths. It was when I took the clan for the second time things improved, but... no, I can only say my best act as the leader of the clan that second time around was making Gabriel my second and leaving the clan to him when I left. He is the reason Inferni flourished and survived, I think. He gave us years of his life,

Myrika absorbed this for a long moment, simply moving with the horse beneath her, her mind grinding over these words as if trying to commit them verbatim to permanent memory. I think you're downplaying your own importance, as well as the other leaders, she said simply, shrugging a shoulder. You were each crucial in your own way. Why do you say you failed? the hybrid asked, genuinely curious. She was not afraid to disagree with the old woman -- grandmother she was, Myrika did not feel quite so connected to the crone in Eira's saddle as to give her unwavering and unquestioning respect. Such challenges were rarely something she balked at anyhow, and she did enjoy debate -- the conversation had enraptured her, and their surroundings no longer concerned her; the horses were leading the way more than Myrika.

The grizzled hybrid in turn seemed to take a long moment to absorb Myrika's words and formulate her counter; Myrika waited for her response patiently, no longer afraid she had offended the coyote. There was no hint of shame in her now; the tawny hybrid saw this was something the Causarius earnestly believed. Myri wondered if the belief could be shaken -- she honestly believed her prior statement. For my first bout as leader of the clan, I languished in the rank and spent more time wallowing in my own sorrow and exacting it on hapless wanderers than anything else. Again, the best thing I did was to promote Arlo Xyl -- your great-grandfather -- into the subleader's rank.

Wait, what? the rusty coyote interrupted. Sorry, but my great-grandfather? she repeated, incredulous. How old was this woman, and how many things had she seen over her long life? Yes. He was the adopted son of Yasu Zarah, my friend and the first leader of Inferni. I suppose she's your great-great grandmother, if adopted, the graying hybrid said, shaking her head even at those words. Arlo led Inferni after I did, and he had a son, Laruku, by Kiriska of Clouded Tears, their alpha. When I led Inferni the second time, years later, I had Laruku's children. Rachias, Andrezej, and Arkham. This was a sanitized version and omitted Eris from the list -- perhaps a crucial error with a more established member of Kaena's family, but one that went unnoticed by Myrika. Arkham must have taken good care of you and your sister. He was here before you came -- not long before. Did you travel together? the coyote added, cocking her head to the side.

Myrika gave her a strange look, muzzle wrinkling and tilted her head right back at the old woman. I didn't know my uncle at all, she said, looking at the graying coyote for an explanation. Kaena gave none, and simply shrugged. For my second bout in the clan, I also started a war over that tiny slice of territory Kidorah had given away. Maybe it was a petty decision, but it was the principle of the thing, the coyote said, her voice again growing gruff and defensive. Myrika thought there was something both noble and incredibly ignorant in clinging so fiercely to old beliefs and old decisions, but then again, she had not lived as long as this gray coyote before her; she had not seen the same things. Perhaps if she had done the sorts of things Kaena did to survive, she would feel similarly -- perhaps if she did not assert her righteousness so frequently, she might be torn apart by the guilt. She wondered if such a struggle existed in the old coyote, and thought not. Here was a killer given family, all murderous instinct turned to vicious protectiveness of blood and kin and clan. Though her strength had certainly withered, Myrika did not think for a second the old woman's wits had deteriorated any.

I brought Gabriel to the subleader's rank. I added territory to Inferni's claim, and drove the pack of wolves that had once taken a small piece of our land entirely west, past the mountains near the old coast. There was a mechanical quality to her voice, though Myrika thought the words could have sounded very much like boasting. She thought, however, that it was not -- this was truth and these were deeds the old woman had accomplished; yet she called herself a failure. The russet Praeses remained silent, hoping further response from the grizzled crone might provide insight. I built our ranks further from Kidorah and Segodi's changes, and I laid the foundation for the system still in place now. I forged good relations with our other closest batch of wolves, but it was... don't think so much of me, silly thing, the coyote snapped, misreading Myrika's interest for veneration; the rusty coyote did not bother to correct, too interested in what the old coyote would say next to defend herself.

I also left the clan in a heartbeat when the father of your uncles and aunt came around again. Samael, Ahemait, and Razekiel's father, those uncles and aunt. Astaroth Kimaris. He was a liar, through and through, but a good one. He wanted Eris all along, and he took her. I left when he took her, chasing after them, the old woman said, again sanitizing the story -- she had chased Astaroth for her vengeance, not for Eris. However, Myrika asked a question that left the old woman bumbling a moment. Who is Eris? The grizzled coyote grunted, and shifted uncomfortably on the horse's back. She was damn uncomfortable and she did want to get down and walk for a while, but... oh, hell -- Myrika was right, too, and there was no sense fighting it. Can we walk beside the horses a while? the old woman asked, her voice strangely meek. She hated it, and the coal tip of her tail flared angrily back and forth a few times, evident of her irritation.

Sure, the tawny woman responded, and the horses came to a stop, seemingly at some invisible command. Kaena would never understand horsemanship; she was of a different era and it was one of those new-fangled technologies old fogies like her died trying to use. Myrika slid from the saddle and walked around the silver mare's front, stroking her briefly on the forehead. The reddish-hued hand was there, then, offered to the older woman, and Kaena grabbed it almost begrudgingly, swinging one leg over the horse and sliding down awkwardly. Her legs very nearly buckled beneath her, but the younger woman's strong arms were there beneath her in an instant, supporting her weight. The hybrid huffed her displeasure and leaned heavily against Myrika, waiting for the feeling to return to her legs. She moved them slowly, wincing at the tingling and ache that had started in them. Her back would hurt fiercely tomorrow, too. She did not regret this trip, however. It was something she needed to see.

Eris is my daughter, and your mother's littermate. But not your mother's sister -- her half-sister. Your half-aunt, the coyote explained as they started to walk forward, long moments after sliding down from the horses. Myrika's left arm still supported the graying hybrid somewhat, and her right hand held the pale horse's lead rope. Eira meandered right next to her new riding partner, happy for the company. The blue roan was fond of many of the Infernian horses -- especially Viggo, it seemed. Thoughts of horses were far from Myrika's mind, however, as she listened intently. She leads Salsola now. Stay away -- she is a treacherous thing, the coyote stated simply, inhaling a sharp breath as she felt a twinge of pain in her lower back, the beginning of many.

I... see, Myrika said, still confused. I didn't know you could get pregnant twice over, she added, somewhat nervously; the laughter that came from her was again that tittering chatter, and she would have blushed if capable of it. Instead, her ears went half mast and she grinned nervously, licking the end of her muzzle. Though she did not think of Kaena in a particularly grandmotherly fashion, it would have been awkward discussing sex and sexual things with anyone for Myrika. She knew only Thamur, and knew only that sex was still a foreign and disgusting kind of thing. Who is her father? she asked, too curious to have any sort of filter for the questions asked.

It's rare enough, but it happens. Eris is just such a mistake -- I knew her from the moment I saw her, the coyote said sadly. Myrika would not understand without having known Salvaged Eternity, but Kaena did intend to try -- it was one she enjoyed, and Myrika was, after all, a good listener. Her questions were also sharp -- Kaena had liked Myrika at first, of course, but she had grown more grumpy with age, and especially irritable with coddling; she did not enjoy being treated like a baby, but the truth of the younger woman's words still rang in her ears. I will tell you the full story later, perhaps, but the short version: her father and I knew each other, a long time ago. Salvaged Eternity killed my mate, the father of your oldest half-uncle -- Helotes's father. He lived in the pack closest to us, and for many years, the alpha of that pack seemed to overlook his evil deeds -- either that, or she was unaware, and he was a perfect prince at home, the old woman shrugged at this, growing almost contemplative for a moment.

He might have been, I think -- the reason I forged such good relation with his pack, well. It was a woman. Fatin had been his woman before, but she had discovered his more vile nature, and he had been kicked out of their pack when a new alpha rose. Fatin was a leader in that pack, and we had a shared past with Salvaged. It was more than that, too, the old woman said, now clearly uncomfortable with the subject of discussion but willing to press on nonetheless. Our love was the thing to keep the bond between Inferni and Jaded Shadows strong, and it lasted beyond the fire, too, I think. When Inferni fought the first war with Dahlia, Ezekiel and Talitha were sent away with Fatin. Gabriel trusted her, too.

Myrika was quiet again for a long time after this -- Kaena had stopped leaning so heavily on her, though the gray coyote still clutched one russet arm as they walked. Soon after, she asked to ride the horses again, and they did. The terrain was beginning to grow flat and more barren -- these looked very much like floodplains to Myrika, and she thought she could smell water. The hybrid wondered just where they were; it smelled of river and muck, not ocean and salt. It was not the coast. Kaena might know, but the old woman was wrapped into her stories, and Myrika was too concerned with them to concern herself with their exact whereabouts. She had not expected such a revelation that her grandmother had loved a woman, and a woman in a wolf pack. Myri wished to comment on this, she wished badly to ask a question of some sort, but none formed in her mind; she simply hovered over the information quietly, trying to place it into her stockpile and finding nowhere suitable.

Once more, however, the old woman began to speak, and Myrika was saved having to think of something useful to input to the conversation. What a whirlwind it was, too -- one moment, she knew what to say, and the next she was fumbling for words, utterly blindsided by some new piece of information she would have never guessed existed. Fatin and I... we could have been together, I think, but our families, our lives -- they were always in different places at different times. Myrika was not even certain she needed speak at all; it did not seem Kaena was speaking to anyone in particular anymore. Now she simply spoke, putting old, festering truths to the air. Myrika was unused to being a confessional box, but it was not altogether unpleasant, this trust.

There's someone else I can love, though. I haven't told anyone of this, and you won't, either. I've told you everything else, though -- what's one more secret? The old woman laughed bitterly at this, and rolled her shoulders in a shrug. She had little enough dignity left to lose; whatever was left of it could be obliterated by Myrika spreading these stories and secrets to the clan was inconsequential. I doubt you or anyone else wants to hear it, but I have needed to say it -- for a long, long time. I've loved many times: Zulifer was killed, taken from me. I ran from Zarah, afraid of loving a woman. Ahren's life was in another place. Astaroth lied, plain and simple. Laruku was never mine to begin with, and Fatin and I had different lives. But -- there is one... and he's devoted himself to me like no other. He would die for me if I asked it, the coyote said. Her ears were pressed back in nervousness, and Myrika noted this with with the coolness of a casual observer, unperturbed by the old woman's apprehension or whatever it was that was to be revealed to her: it was history, lore, and her own heritage, too. Samael, the old woman stated, plainly and simply.

The conversation had turned toward the ostensibly weird, and Myrika looked at her grandmother with a look of shock. Your son? she demanded, thinking perhaps there was a Samael of another name, other blood. Yes. Don't you start -- who else knows you best but your own blood? Who else reflects you so perfectly? He is me and I am him, and between us there would be purity like none ever seen in the world before. My womb will give no more children to this world, though, and so whatever we do is fruitless anyway. Leave me here in the middle of the wilderness if you take such issue with it, the coyote snapped, reading Myrika's face easily enough. Her voice was forceful, but Myrika had no response. It was her own son -- her own son. She would keep her promises and tell no one, but she looked upon the old woman strangely at that moment, cerulean-hued eyes full of doubt.

Who are you, who is anyone else to question pleasure and happiness? Did we commit some great harm to the world with our actions? the coyote probed. Her voice had grown defensive, but Myrika thought her own reaction had been expected by the scarred canine. Mmm? the hybrid jabbed, apparently expecting an answer to her queries. Myrika shook her head, supposing not -- they were not slaughtering innocents and shedding blood, but she believed she understood some of what Kharma had warned her about. Her mother's family certainly wasn't normal. Well, I've told someone, and now you have to bear that burden, too. I won't say any more of it -- it doesn't matter, anyway. You won't say anything of it, either, the old woman reminded, sharply.

I won't. I don't pretend to understand, but I won't betray you, either. Whatever makes you happy, I guess, the woman said, rolling her shoulders. The initial shock long over, she supposed she didn't care much either way -- Kaena and everyone else did not seem like family to her anyway. It was difficult to imagine Kaena and Samael as her own relatives, and so it was easy for her to square the idea of grandmother and uncle screwing on the side -- it wasn't really her family, after all, was it? Myrika's ears twitched, and she realized she had been hearing running water for some time -- and the horses' hooves were starting to sink into the ground, making distinct sucking noises as they went. The tawny hybrid pulled the horses to a halt slowly, looking around for a moment. Kaena did not immediately inquire as to why they'd halted, but after a moment, she probed Myrika. Why did we stop?

The river up ahead -- it's wide, and the ground here is already soft. I don't think we can cross here, and probably not for a long time. Do you recognize it? the hybrid inquired. The land seemed extremely flat here -- it was unlikely the river narrowed and the ground hardened anywhere near their current location. They would have to travel far upstream; if they went downstream, they risked the delta growing impossibly wide. Myri did not know the terrain at all here, and she suspected it had changed too much for Kaena to recognize any of it. The old coyote was quiet a moment as she peered toward the sluggish, brown river.

The Yawrah. I'm not sure of it, but I don't know what other river it could be. It's become a monster, the coyote said, dismay apparent in her voice. It was never so wide, and it had riverbanks! It's all turned to marsh, the coyote said, peering over the side of her horse and into the muddy ground. The horse train behind them was wide; their horses' hooves had torn up the dead yellow grasses that had perished with the end of summer for some distance, but Myrika could still see more solid ground. We won't be able to cross, she said with more certainty, and turned the horses around and back in the direction they had come. We can try to travel upriver, but I think we'll have to go a long way, the coyote said, pointing upstream. I think this is as far as we should go, anyway, she urged, hoping the elderly coyote would agree. They would stop and camp for the night, and return in the morning. She did not want to take Kaena too far away from Inferni, and not into clearly dangerous terrain.

Yes, the coyote said, sighing softly. It's still a long way to Hell's Coast, and over the mountain and through the city -- the fire was worst there, I'm told, the hybrid said. Myrika nodded, and they pulled up the horses on solid ground, deciding to pitch their camp near a small copse of already bared saplings. Whether preparing for winter or long dead, Myrika could not tell. She took Eira and gathered firewood while Kaena pushed a few rocks together for a pit, settling their fur beds out for the night, which was sure to be colder than the day. When Myrika returned, they ate dried meat that was rather strange to the old coyote, though she ate it without complaint. As the sun began to sink, Myrika lit the fire with precious match, carefully burning the kindling beneath the good wood she had gathered.

As they sat around the small flame, Myrika studied her grandmother, the stranger -- she was still a stranger, despite all of her stories. Myrika could not piece together the whole, nor could she separate fact from fiction. Kharma had warned her more times than she could recall, and she did not really remember what her mother had said about Inferni and her family, but there had to have been something for Rachias here if she had left Myrika and Cass so young in their father's care. Tell me about the third time you led Inferni, the russet woman asked, poking at the fire with a stick. You said you were the Aquila twice, Centurion once, she reminded the older woman, who smiled in the firelight -- or so Myrika thought. It was difficult to tell in the dimness, more so than the bright daylight.

I served Gabriel's needs. The highlight of my career as a Centurion involved dragging us back into an old blood feud, the coyote said, now sighing miserably. Not a smile -- a frown, then? Myrika wondered what the expression the old woman had shown a moment before had been. Perhaps it had been a grimace -- maybe there was a reason this third term had been politely deflected. The elder canine began speaking all the same, her voice more gravelly than it had been earlier in the day -- perhaps from speaking so much. Kaena had said Myrika was good at listening -- perhaps she did not speak so much around others. The first few times Myrika had seen her, Kaena had been quiet -- but perhaps this was simply for lack of an interesting subject. Clearly, history was amongst her favorites, but Myrika was also fascinated with the day's exchange. A more action-oriented canine might have been bored, surely, but Myrika had paid rapt attention, and she would write this down for the clan -- it would be her secondary job. Some details would, of course, be omitted as asked.

It was almost three years ago I came back to Inferni now. The summer after I came back, Gabriel made me his second. The fall after... I met Haku Soul a second time, and he had me against my will. I told no one, keeping it to myself until I confessed to Gabriel. He sought vengeance on Dahlia de Mai as a whole -- this was the pack Haku Soul led at the time. Part of Inferni burned, and part of Dahlia did, too. There was death -- it was a war like any other, and all of it was my fault, the silvery canine said, her head now tilted back to peer at the stars. Even the sky here looked somewhat sickly, tinged a yellowish color, as if the earth itself here was poisoned. In the end, the Dahlia pack banded together and ousted him as their leader, ending the war. He came back to Inferni alone, and Gabriel finished him, the hybrid said. This was as succinct as one could be with the Dahlian war, but her golden eye widened at the russet woman's question.

Had you against your will? the younger woman asked, her rust-splashed muzzle wrinkling in confusion. Avid reader she was, Myrika did not generally understand sexual things unless worded in a blunt and straightforward manner. He raped me, the elder hybrid said quietly, leveling her head at the other woman now. Her golden eye focused on the rust-colored woman for her reaction; this, too, was a subject that Kaena did not particularly enjoy discussing, but now divulged for history's sake. She knew what purpose Myrika served, and having once fulfilled the role of Veritas herself, she did intend to provide an accurate history. Where Myrika's own family was concerned, she might brush aside some of those details, but this was entirely different in Kaena's mind.

Ah. So, the tawny woman said. Kaena was entirely surprised to hear a hint of anger in her voice. That's your fault how? Something in her had flared up violently when the story unfolded fully and she realized the deed that had started the war. To her further rage, the hybrid answered this question logically, mechanically. I shouldn't have left Inferni on my own. I should have gone back before dark. Myrika's hand visibly twitched at this, and she growled a frustrated, sharp sound. Somewhere in the distance behind them, Eira whinnied back, and the pale mare answered the roan's call. Kaena remained silent, staring at Myrika with what might have been incredulity or rage -- Myrika could not tell and she didn't particularly care, either.

No, it sounds like Haku Soul shouldn't have been having women "against his will," the younger canine said, now leaning forward. She was angry, but it was not at Kaena. That's twisted thinking. I'm sorry to say it, but it is. It's twisted, she said, throwing herself back against her saddle and bag, crossing her arms. Your fault. I don't know why, and I can't say why, but that's wrong thinking, Kaena, the coyote said, softly. Don't think like that, please, she said. Perhaps it was the first show of emotion she had let through all day, too; perhaps it was tiredness letting her guard slip to the ground. Inferni defended its own from wrong-doing, the hybrid added, thinking this might penetrate the thick-skulled logic of the scarred old coyote.

It could have been avoided if not for -- Myrika cut her off with a snarl. Think like that if you must, but you're wrong, the younger woman said. Either way, I don't want to hear it. It may have been the cause of that war, but it wasn't your fault. What happened after the war? she continued, cutting the subject closed violently. Myrika did not know why this angered her so; she had not known anyone to be raped, to her knowledge. She herself had never had anything happen to her -- on the contrary, Thornloe boys considered her an untouchable sort of thing.

The old woman rolled her shoulders in a shrug and again came that grimace/smile, though not so pronounced this time. I started losing steam. I went out with a whimper, I'd say. The year after the war, I slowed down... in a snowstorm, I didn't realize the danger in getting snowed in, and Inferni had to dig me out. Gabriel banished me to the mansion after that. Her tone was coated in bitterness, and Myrika listened, albeit more agitated than she had been before they'd touched on the subject of this war. Then he asked me to step down, and I've been useless elder ever since, the coyote stated, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Part of me wishes I had died in that war, she admitted.

You are a crazy old fool. Dad was right about momma's family, she muttered, shaking her head. Her long hair shivered with it, rusty red and sienna locks tossing to and fro. Kaena's look was again long and strange, and Myrika rolled her shoulders in a shrug, smiling an awkward sort of grin. Who was he? the coyote asked, showing her own interest as Myrika had earlier in the day, when she was not so tired and so worn, not only from the journey but the conversation, as well. Kharma Asylum, she offered, squinting at her grandmother. I thought he lived in Inferni a while... he talked like he did. The elderly woman took a moment to respond, the tips of her yellowed teeth visible in the dimming fire. Myrika would put it out soon and they would sleep -- perhaps there would be more talk tomorrow.

He might have. Rachias might have learned to abandon you and your sister from me. I did the same to her and her siblings when Astaroth took Eris, the old woman said. There was a hint of apology on her tongue, though Myrika saw none of it on her face -- it was only in the twist of an ear, the hunch forward. Again, the shame showed clearly on the old hybrid's body, even if her face betrayed none of it. I was gone from Inferni for almost two years, then -- Rachias grew up during that time, she offered, rolling her shoulders. Myrika accepted this, and smiled. Maybe he'll find momma, or she'll come back here, the woman said, thinking wistfully of her mother. Her voice was growing sluggish with tiredness, and she slumped closer to the ground, pulling the stitched deerskin blanket closer around her.

Maybe yet, Kaena offered, and Myrika thought, however tired she was, the old woman was just being kindly. Then, she spoke again, reminding Myrika that they were indeed family, stranger the elder canine was. Many of my children do return to Inferni, even after being gone a long, long time. Some don't, but others... yes. Now, she was being kindly: the blunter Kaena would have told Myrika flatly, "if Rachias is alive, she will come back to Inferni someday," as Kaena honestly believed. She had softened the truth again -- this daughter of her youngest daughter seemed a gentle soul, though there was some of the family in her yet, judging from the way she had flared at the history of the second Dahlian war from Kaena's perspective.

The old hybrid watched the younger one drift into sleep there, her bright bluish eyes sliding closed at last. She contemplated a long time into the night, sore as she was. Kaena had never required much sleep, and her schedule was erratic at best. As she aged, she seemed to need less sleep: she was awake long hours of the night often, burning candles in her cave. It was good to be so far and out from Inferni again, though, and in this old place. Even dead and burned, even if they hadn't gotten to Hell's Coast -- it was a trek the scarred hybrid would recall fondly, she thought. By the time she kicked out the last dying embers of the fire, she herself was tired enough to sleep, and she settled to the ground. Her old bones rested comfortably even on the old ground, and she nestled deeper into the thick skin her granddaughter insisted upon, thankful for its warmth.