She was carrying a heavy heart, and so the journey was taking longer than anyone could have expected. The Caprica who loped ever nearer to her recent acquaintance was not the same Caprica who had originally met him in the maple forest. Now, she believed, she was a girl capable of magic - and black magic, at that, not benign, as she'd originally thought. She was so lost in her shame, that she'd forgotten all the joy and heady excitement of those first few weeks carrying her secret charm, and forgotten the reason she'd begun to think it had worked. But it was also a stronger Caprica, with a thread of steel through her heart that could not decay, even faced with the prospect of accepting a deeply shadowed subconscious mind: a malicious devil within, that she'd never even suspected to exist before. Still, she was stronger than the devil. The love she'd been shown from her family provided her with strength, because they cared for her and always would - so long as she did not become truly evil, and she would never allow that. They would always be there, and she would retain the will to fight, because of them. In some ways, it was good, she told herself, that it had come to this. At least now she knew the challenge she faced, and the pitfalls to be avoided. She would frame her incantations far more clearly in the future, and overturn every shadowy stone in her soul until there were no contaminating secrets left unexamined.

Perhaps she wasn't heading in the straightest of lines for home, but she didn't much mind. The tunnels echoed still with guilt, and it would take some steeling of her nerves to re-enter the world she felt she'd robbed as truly as if she'd been a thief in the night. She would go back, of course. What good would it do them to lose her as well? And she needed Anathema, needed her loved ones. For now, the wilderness of an unknown place was a better place to collect her thoughts. After a time, and veering towards the South and the scent of the ocean, she thought she scented packlands and moved nearer, lifting her proud Roman-throwback muzzle to collect the impression: it was indeed, and a place she thought she could recall the name of, too. As she trotted closer, wondering if she dared call for the one she knew to live therein - but of course, he was not meant for her, after all - Caprica suddenly crossed a trail, the marks vivid against a sea-mist dampened ground. Both her neat, small ears shot forwards: her pace and pulse quickened. She followed, paws unerringly following the fresh and outward-leading trail. Her nose down, she did not see the figure atop his boulder. She merely marvelled at the strengthening of the scent, to the point at which it seemed he could be right in front of her: and then when she found the wall of rock before her face, she lifted her eyes and found that indeed he was. She wagged her tail, but the gesture was quiet and lacking in the exuberance that it might have possessed. It was delightful to see him, but the other was not tinged with the sense of inevitability and destiny that surrounded him before. Now, she knew they were both adrift on the sea of fate and just about anything could happen. All she could do was place herself in hope's way, and see if it came to call. Maybe with the odd nudge, too, just for luck. Not that she was feeling lucky, these days. Perhaps she would have to make her own luck.

Ever the gentleman. Shandom descended to her level, and then lower, dropping his head in a lordly bow. She realised then how he always made her feel like some kind of princess, which she knew she was not. She was a flawed creature, and a lowly one. Her mother was powerful, but Caprica was not sure she was anything like her mother. She could only hope that her strength would rub off some day, and then she would deserve such a show of honour as this Arctic gentleman gave. One thing they did share was their size: the ebony lady was used to looking down on others, despite her current low opinion of herself. Shandom was tall, too, though - taller than her, she thought, but not by a lot. She had still never seen him in any other form than the lupus, but now they were both on four legs it was easier to compare. "Yeah, I meant to come find you sooner..." she murmured, regretfully. It had been a more light-hearted time that they had made their bargain, and it felt a world away: so of course it had been too long. "Had a lot on my mind," it was almost faintly an apology, but she was more sorry for herself than him. Of course he hadn't felt the lack of her in any way: it was her misfortunes and preoccupations she regretted, and her own fault she hadn't come to track down the enigmatic white wolf sooner: indeed now she was here, it had been almost a mistake, but there was no need to let on about that. Far from home? "I know... I was down this way visiting my father," she explained. "But we ain't far from yours, are we? I gotta admit - I took a detour when I found your trail..." she confessed bashfully, her eyes lowering and sliding to one side, but the grin that followed these words belied suspicion of any shyness.

Lowering her head a little, Caprica sighed intangibly as Shandom explained his reasons for dissatisfaction. She would never think of him as old and grouchy, but it seemed he was undeniably a traditionalist and quite irrationally, she thought. She couldn't understand what difference it really made to behaviour, whether one walked on two or four legs. It was like having a different colour of fur, to Caprica, except that having the power to shift was actually very useful and expanded one's capabilities. She wondered then what life was like as a purely-four-legged creature. If Shandom loved it so much that even the ability to change did not make up for what he longed for, then there must be something wonderful about the life. She hoped she would get a taste of that today. He certainly preferred her like this, and that cheered her spirits, though she still couldn't really see the reason - she wasn't acting or feeling any differently in lupus form. It must be purely an aesthetic thing, she decided. He was an aesthete like her. Perhaps if he could get used to two-legs eventually, they would both be artists. If he didn't convert her to four-legged purism first.

She hardly ever hunted deer, although she adored venison. Her snares were too small for that. The thought of the delicate hoofed animals made her green eyes gleam. "I always aim big," she boasted devilishly. "Deer sound perfect. Let's go."

It was possible that most of the reason Caprica was enjoying herself so much was simply the sensation of running with the older male, who as a distinguished and seemingly experienced wolf came up to her high estimations, and a little bit to do with the novelty of hunting on all fours, a skill lost to her in practice if not instinct. She matched his trot stride for stride, enjoying the way she could run so much lighter like this, her substantial weight evenly distributed instead of teetering on two legs. Every muscle was taut with excitement, lifting her higher off the ground than she would usually run, and her head and tail flagged proudly high, knowing they looked good together, the dark Anatheman and the ivory Courtier. Even she, with her bohemian love of decoration and ornament, could appreciate the simple beauty of trapping-free fur pelts and a clear snow-patched landscape. When she smelt the deer, though, her thoughts were anything but those of a pure and simple she-wolf: she saw spits and plates and gravy and delicious roasting meat drenched in spice and salt. She could construct all kinds of human-book based recipes these days, and often did. Shandom was inquiring as to her opinion, and she let the thought of what came next swim from her mind. She had to focus on the present moment, because this was a rare challenge for her. She tested the air carefully, figuring out which were young or old, male or female, before looking at Shandom with innocently wide eyes. "Okay, first I stake out a hide in the trees, then I load my sling..." she answered, then dropped the act and smirked mischievously. "No, sorry, I didn't just say that, don't worry. I, I guess we split up and one of us chases them towards the other...?" Her voice was halting and unsure. She knew she couldn't outrun a deer, so surely they had to be a little organised about this, but her mind kept ticking over and considering all kinds of peripheral details when what she should be doing was dropping everything and listening to her inborn knowledge: she would have been far more certain then.

It was fortunate he nodded, because she would have given up hope in herself too if she'd thought the wounded deer was obvious to him as well, but apparently her first reaction had been good enough, and neither of them had spotted the doe's injury - of course, it wasn't really possible to see until she'd moved. So they had a target, now. She wasn't exactly sure what to do next. Shamefully, the wolf had never hunted such large prey with bare tooth before. She always found it so much simpler and quicker to kill them from a distance using her prehensile skills to throw or fire missiles. She'd never had the luxury of a pack hunt to show her what to do. In some respects, Caprica was a very naive young woman. And some things she had lost from her memory, so it was as if she'd never done them. Others seemed as if they had only happened in dreams. Hers was a simple and cheerful exterior built upon confusion and darkness, but a genuine heart. It was beating now as she watched Shandom slip away, and kept low, eyes sharing time between the milk-white male and their browsing prey. As if sensing his stillness, her eyes turned back his way just as his swivelled to meet hers and she felt that electric jolt again. They were as one, now, joined by their maneuver and their goal. It warmed her heart to meet this older, much more experienced wolf on his own level, as an equal. Or, almost. She doubted she had his speed and agility, though perhaps her bear-like strength would suffice to drag the deer down efficiently if she could get hold of it. Her weight shifted fluidly, she could barely hold still at all now. She was eager for the charge, her tongue yearning for the bloody tang of meat. She'd forgotten how much more this form loved to move, perhaps even keened to run. Still crouching low, she stalked forwards a few feet, a black lioness with coiled muscles quivering with anticipation. Surely the countdown to the moment had begun now? The doe was grazing steadily forwards; if there had been an invisible wire between Caprica and Shandom's locked gaze, she was ready to trip it. If there was a way to figure out which direction the deer would run in when startled, Caprica didn't know it. She supposed one of them should go first, and chase it towards the other, but they could not make such a decision soundlessly at a distance. Figuring his stillness meant he was ready, she made up her mind. She burst from her cover at a gallop, huge black paws splaying snow every which way. The deer all jumped frantically in different directions, and the injured one was slower than the rest, but not slow enough for Caprica to catch. She twisted, trying to herd her towards Shandom, but the deer had about-faced and seemed to be trying to catch up with the rest of the herd. Caprica quickly changed tack and blocked its path, keeping it from reuniting with the others, but it turned to dash off in a wide arc and regain them anyway and she had to leap from side to side in order to prevent it getting past. She could surely only keep this up for a few moments before the creature managed to slip by.

One moment it was just her and the deer, playing a childlike but intense game of chicken as she headed it off and it twisted in an attempt to leap past her. Then as if from nowhere the white wolf arrived at great speed, solidifying out of a spray of snow kicked up by a frantic hoof, and she was hugely relieved as the deer was so much faster than her - even despite the great jaws now savaging its fragile legs, it still managed to leap away from her and might have made it past and away - but Shandom was at its heels, and the doe was stark with panic. It seemed almost to have forgotten the black wolf in favour of evading the white male, despite her increased visibility in the wintry scenery. The leap of escape from him was the final tolling of the deer's death knell, as it skittered on lame hooves all too close to Caprica.

The prey animal filled her field of vision and for a second she was as helpless to move as a frightened puppy - not fearful, but indecisive. To make a kill like this, while the animal was still in mid-flight, while she was still out of breath from her last attempts to be agile and fast - Caprica hardly knew what to do for the best, but she knew she had to do something. She could smell the blood and the meat, and she was not used to letting a kill go - mostly because they were already dead when she got to them. She could see the doe see her and felt a sharp pang of recognition of the fact she was going to end the creature's life. It felt somehow right, even as the deer arched her back in a wildly high spring - perhaps desperately trying to get out of reach, but when Caprica was right there... it was a tactic destined to fail. Her clear white underbelly and throat were almost in sight, and all the black wolf had to do was throw herself forward with jaws agape, and she felt her teeth close on throat-flesh. The deer's own jump was its undoing, as the momentum pulled them both forwards but Caprica was a heavy dead-weight, and the pressure was enough to tear the flesh of the throat clean away. As the doe slipped from her grasp, leaving her lifeblood in Caprica's jaws, the wolf feared it was escaping - of course, Shandom would have caught it, but her logical mind had deserted her for something far more primal - and so she pounced again, giving herself rather a surprise when the animal simply collapsed beneath her onslaught, leaving her with nothing better to do than tumble down on top of it herself, almost her entire head encased in a liberal slathering of hot red blood.

She had no idea of the existence of his thoughts of desirability: if she had, it would have been all the cue she'd needed to instigate her own version of them in reality. But she didn't feel beautiful - with lust for blood lighting her green eyes in a now-crimson visage, she was a technicolour monster: her seemingly enormous body sprawled upon the dead animal, a strange contrast of its light and delicate body laying the foundations for her muscular bulk. She pushed herself into a half-crouch as Shandom came, not wishing to look too much as though she was feeling possessive of the deer when he'd done at least half the work. Still, it was her face soaked in the blood and she could not help but savour the moment - the first time her teeth alone had caught and slaughtered a beast so large, the thrill of the chase still sending shivers down her. She got up fully though, as he spoke, and backed off, suddenly seeming the youthful, playful Caprica again as she laid back her ears and curved her tail from side to side playfully. This form really was good fun - why didn't she use it more? "Aw, honey, you did as much as I. We'll start together," she said, but could not really last the temptation of the meat much longer and plunged her jaws into a haunch, ripping it loose. All she could do was stop mid-motion, with her head on the haunch on the ground and her eyes upturned, hawklike observing him - the moment he began, she would too, and then she would have total satisfaction - at least, of one kind.

Caprica, too, appreciated beauty, but her idea of such wasn't exactly aesthetic. She loved things not for their surface or shape, but for what they represented, what they meant. Every item, every animal and every wolf had a story and when she looked at them, she knew what she was seeing was only a shadow of the whole. She hoarded items because she liked to learn them inside out, and imprint herself upon them - burning scented herbs to make everything in her dim quarters fragrant in her own particular way, adding small modifications and finishing touches, like the deer skull hanging over her door, the prongs of his spreading antlers bedecked with her homemade jewellery and other works in progress, carvings littering his face and horns. She could never leave anything alone, nothing was ever finished and if it ever got to the point she felt she could do no more to something, she was as likely as not to take it apart and start again. She admired Shandom Qi'Vaex because his dignity spoke of experience, his solemnity and scars of past troubles that he had overcome, his powerful physique a testament to days of action and deeds of grand proportion. Muscles and speed like that were not developed overnight. Yes, hers was a peculiar form of affection, and quite possibly a more classically feminine one than the supposedly masculine obsession with someone's looks and physical attributes. She was capable of this, too, of course, but such a lust was highly unlikely to grow into an emotion resembling love, for Caprica. Far be it from her to take the traditional road, though. She let the male come forward, so they began their repast at almost the same moment. The food was quite unlike what she was used to, one of her fire-charred recipes which grew more elaborate by the month as she learned techniques and began to gain the understanding to improvise. This food was warm, but it was due to the recent death of the doe and not an unnatural flame. It was savage and violent in flavour, much like the hunt had been. She adored it. Her face, chest, even her forelegs and shoulders were now drenched in the blood, a stain quite shocking in its red intensity. It seemed Caprica could do nothing by halves, wallowing in the blessed brutality of the slaughter. Shandom spoke, his manner equally primal, but his words still flowing and formal between bites. She chomped on herself as she spoke, making a rather unsuccessful attempt at the same. "Don't thank me - s'nothin'! Fanks to yourself for the lesson, Mister Qi'Vaex," she answered, finding herself picking up on a similar formality. He kept calling her Miss - which sounded a little like a diminutive to Caprica, for some reason, perhaps she would have preferred Ma'am, despite her young years and worldly inexperience - but she supposed it was his way of showing respect, so she was appreciative enough. She gave a huge swallow, her stomach already weighted heavily. Now even Caprica was having trouble fitting more in, so she began chewing on a piece of skin, loth to stop enjoying the flavour of their kill - spiced with the sweet flavour of success. She felt suddenly tired, though, and lowered herself to the snowy bloodstained ground, head falling to her paws. Suddenly it seemed almost a question of whether she would even make it home to Anathema before she succumbed to the need to sleep off her full stomach. Green eyes turned to Shandom, wondering what his next move would be.