In her dreams, she bled.

Teeth ripped at her tawny fur from all sides, spilling crimson life out onto the earth. She whirled with lips wrinkled back and ears flattened, but the dark figure was always quicker than her, leaping at her bleeding hips. Her paws slipped on wet autumn leaves, causing her to lose balance and strike her chin on the ground. The jaws found her ear, tearing it, fangs scraping across her brow. She was thrown onto her back, thrashing her legs to keep them from tearing into her stomach.

Her father grinned his sneering grin. It was then that he’d speak to her, mocking her, asking her if she wanted to stand up for her sister again. Sparrow would meet her eyes timidly from the bush, too much of a coward as always to step in. She remembered Marcel’s slurred voice beckoning to the girl, his jaws tugging her scruff as they walked away. Those were her memories.

In her dreams, she died.

This time, however, Marcel changed when he lunged for her throat. His fur flashed to a lighter shade of grey, his eyes burning from orange to flame, transitioning through bronze. Vesper gasped for air when the jaws pressed her windpipe, knowing now how the coyote boy had felt dying in her jaws. Her paws scrabbled weakly in the leaves, and the last thing she saw were the eyes.

Vesper flipped over onto her stomach when she woke, startled not so much by the familiar death so much as the sight of earth surrounding her. She caught her breath when she realized she was in a burrow, not a grave, and with a flicker of disgust, she stood and shook out her coat, slipping out of the den into the fresh night air.

I really need to find a permanent place to sleep, she reflected, flattening her ears when she spooked at the sound of a cracking twig in the night. Her first thought that it was a deer, but then she remembered her close proximity to the borders and trotted uncertainly in that direction. There was a scent on the wind—something familiar enough to give her pause, yet with a darker edge to it, one that made her mind flash back to the dream and her heartbeat to race.

With as much stealth as any coyote could muster, she crept through the undergrowth, her tail low to avoid sweeping against the bare branches of a bush. Pupils dilated, she looked around, frozen until she saw a mass stepping through the darkness.

Vesper caught sight of that dusty color, those eyes like flame, the melded manifestation of her nightmares. Ears pinned tight against her slender skull, she remained crouched on all fours, at last letting out a quick snarl.

The male swung around with lips twisted in a snarl. Vesper relaxed only when he met her eyes and showed no signs of attacking; when he spoke, it proved he was no shadowbeast from her dream—even if he could have easily slipped from it out into the real world. He looked so frighteningly like a twisted, scarred, angry version of Helotes that she remained suspicious, though her fur lay flat and her ears tilted forward to catch his words.

“There is a difference between caution and cowardice,” the tawny coywolf replied without pause, her tone smooth and aloof, “and you don’t know enough about me to judge me. You also smell too new to know much about Inferni, for that matter; your scent is why I acted as I did.”

The lie dropped easily from her lips, hiding the moment of weakness that he had been right about, though she didn’t think of herself as weak at all. Her words were logical and calm. She could feel her mind, shaken after that dream, piece slowly back together and restore her composure for her. Her light blue eyes scanned the male, or what she could see of him by the starlight; she could tell that he was large and muscular, and dark like Helotes if perhaps overall darker, and his face at least showed evidence of heavy scarring. She could only wonder if that would pertain to the rest of his body, hidden in shadow.

He asked her who she was, and tersely she stated, “Vesper.” It wasn’t as if he was asking her life’s story, or why she was here—though she would have been somewhat ashamed to answer that a nightmare had driven her to restless paranoia. She frowned then turned the question onto him: “And you? Although I have a guess who you’re related to.”

The muscular male sneered at her, and had she been any younger or more foolish than she was, Vesper might have leaped at him in an attempt to wipe that disgusted look off his face. Certainly that would have gotten her killed, however, and she was no longer a cocky yearling without responsibility. Instead, she listened calmly to his cold speech. He looked at her and saw weakness—and, underneath her unruffled façade, that bothered her.

Outwardly, she only broke a smirk and tilted her head more to look almost lazily at his scarred face. “You must forgive me for not trusting every unfamiliar face I see skulking through the shadows. It isn’t unheard of for spies or troublemakers to hang around pack lands long enough to gain a hint of their smell—but that couldn’t possibly happen with such upstanding citizens like you keeping a look out, could it?” Her tone became unexpectedly feminine and wheedling, a disgusted parody of a tone that she did not naturally have; feminine was not the first adjective one would have for the scarred woman.

The Lykoi surname brought recognition to her patchwork features, and Vesper gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment. It was a heritage almost exclusive to Inferni—most blood coming from an individual named Kaena, if Ves was right in what she’d heard from clan mates. And the additional names only confirmed his place in the clan, though she had not heard the name of Helotes’s other brother. She could only assume Jacinto was as shady as the others, though.

“I am acquainted with Helotes,” she said—perhaps more acquainted than she would have liked. She kept her tone as neutral as she could, however, not wanting to hint at any strain between her and the other dusty Lykoi man.

The coywolf’s muzzle wrinkled slightly at his last statement, not oblivious to the fact that it was a vague one. He hadn’t said purpose “here” or “at the borders,” which might imply he thought she had no purpose existing at all—something that disgusted her. As much as Vesper was capable of hate, she was not coldblooded or cruel enough to spit upon the existence of another being until they proved themselves irredeemable. She was no romantic, but she was decent.

She made no comment on that, however, instead answering his question. “I have survived as a loner for most of my life, and so I’m still used to sleeping alone. I was resting nearby until you woke me with your racket, and it was only responsible to come see what was happening.” Her voice was quiet and neutral, though she hoped that her remark was barbed to the apparently superior-minded male. In reality, fright had woken her, and she wasn’t sure if he had caused the crackling twigs, but hopefully the statement would at least give him some pause.

Vesper was hypocritical. She enjoyed seeing the flaws in others flare up, even though she shared many of those flaws. His anger and annoyance at her presence was her current source of amusement, although she kept this mirth muted behind impassive if sarcastically narrowed blue eyes. It was a defense mechanism more than anything, hiding her fears by being as snarky as possible—though, had it not been so dark out, one could see her muscles tensed every time he snarled.

Her lip curled in a smirk as he stated how lucky the clan was. Perhaps they would be good warriors; this man’s sheer bulk and his brother’s skill in fighting were indicators of that. However, she hadn’t become a part of Inferni in hopes of joining a violent-minded army, and while she could tolerate those with slightly more vicious mindsets as long as they weren’t directed at her, she mainly wanted to be left alone or quietly enjoy moments with comrades.

“Very lucky,” Vesper muttered, not caring if he heard her or didn’t. She didn’t want to provoke him into physical violence, but his lofty statement was uncalled for. As arrogant as the she-yote was—acknowledged she was—she didn’t believe that she was blessing the clan with her presence. Her pride was internalized; she knew she was great, but whether or not others considered her worthy was not up for her to decide.

His attempted jab didn’t bother her. “Trained myself to keep my eyes open while I sleep, too,” the scrawny hybrid said, the statement more teasing and sarcastic than anything. “A loner has to stay vigilant. I’m not going to abandon that lifestyle just because I have the big Lykoi siblings to protect me.” She flicked her tail dismissively then frowned at his statement.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting to sleep anytime soon,” Vesper murmured, though this time her words were honest rather than mocking. “Four eyes are better than two. I’ll join you for a while.”

Patrolling would hopefully help her standing in the clan, as well. Remembering how she had been found at the border stakes, bleeding and helpless, she wanted to lend a paw in watching them.

“Lead the way, Columbine.”

A large dark head turned toward her, those shadowy ember eyes settling on her from their respectable height. She knew that he had to look down a considerable angle in order to meet her gaze, but there was no way that she was going to shift shape around this male. The change to secui would be as far as she took it—but she would not abandon four comfortable paws for her spindly, unbalanced two-legged form. Despite the training she received, she wasn’t going to take her chances. If she was ambushed caught in her optime form for some reason, she needed the training so she wouldn’t die, but she would rather fight how she was born. That was the only way she felt strong and capable, once untouchable.

The one-syllable word alighted on her large brown-rimmed ears, and her blue eyes flicked up to him as he trailed away. Vesper was fine with silence, having been a loner for most of her life, but she wasn’t going to say no to civil conversation until he started mocking her again.

“I’ve been here little longer than you,” the cream-tawny female replied to the first question. Her statement both admitted that she didn’t have a particularly strong or long standing in the pack but also pointed out that she was his senior when it came to membership. All in innocence, of course—but little subtle clues might teach him to respect her more than he had been. “My purpose is what Ezekiel wants of me for now. Loyalty. An able body to fight.” She narrowed her eyes, but it was more of a squint than a glare as she walked, glancing to the darkness. The familiar vigilance didn’t make her seem as paranoid as before, only watchful, as she fell into the routine of walking along the borders. “Eventually, I want to become a scout. As much as I love the thrill of a fight, I would be better suited to the border patrols. It might mean I still get to kick some ass, anyway.” Her teeth flashed in a small smirk.