(311)

The duties of a scout, especially one who had not yet proven himself, dragged on endlessly. Anatole had all but mapped out the territory at this point, and knew exactly how long it would take him to cross from one end to the other, and where he would find certain animals, and which homes belonged to which families. It was a mindless sort of memorization that he was capable of, if not bored with. While having never explored scholarly pursuits, Anatole was a clever boy and yearned for discipline. No one here could give him what he needed, but he had glimpsed something in the rotund coyote-woman that he trusted. She had strength in her, even if she hid it. One day, he would be proud to follow her.

At least he convinced himself this as he continued endless loops, taking them in his lupus form as he always did. There were horses available, but he had never ridden and could not instinctively bring himself to do so. Yet more and more folks seemed to favor the massive beasts. Anatole couldn’t understand why; he could smell them and hear them coming a mile away. In fact…

He lifted his head and snorted, the reek of horse nearby. It was not one of the ones he recognized, and so he began trailing it even before the call came. Coyote. Even better. With quick steps and his head high, the dark male found the woman and her horse. She looked like a child to him, which perplexed him all the more.

“What?” The scout asked flatly, his body tense. She was from the clan he had passed on his way south, with the skulls. More than that, her large horse was taken as a threat as long as she rode it. That was, after all, what AniWaya had trained their own mounts for.

Oddly, Anatole was not so short because of the war. Indeed, he had not even been present for it. He was a man who had spent much of his life living with little comfort and less trust. No coyote, especially one who was small and riding a towering mass of a horse, could be taken lightly. If she had been a wolf, he would have thought the same. Anatole’s nature made him suspicious of the world, of the savage things that lived within it, and of the unknown stranger that spoke sweetly and struck like a viper.

The dark wolf remained still, his posture dominant. While he did not carry much rank at all here, Anatole was a member of the pack and therefore his superiority to this woman was undisputed. She explained herself, but it was not what he wanted to hear. Green eyes narrowed sharply, lips pulling away from the tips of his teeth.

“Maybe your friend had a reason for that,” he countered, suspicious of her claim. “You make a habit of poking your nose in other people’s business?” If she was fishing for information, he did not intend to give much away. The northern packs, while far, were certainly much stronger than the Tribe these days. Especially since they had no warriors (save two, and both were disgraced things). He breathed steam into the hiemal air, wary and tense.

(310)

Unlike the members of AniWaya who had been brought up with diplomacy in their blood, Anatole was a creature who was carved out of ice-wind and glacial snow. He had never been coddled or given sympathy by any creature, his mother included, and had no room in his heart for weak ideas like love or sympathy. There was not use for it in his life. What could he gain, by behaving in such a manner? His mother had taught him quickly about what women who begged and played soft were worth, and he knew in his heart that until he found a woman capable of measuring up to his lofty expectations he would be alone. It wasn’t as if this mattered; Anatole was extremely young and hardly had time in his life for a woman.

The small woman smiled at him but Anatole remained stoic, his green eyes sharp and his stance strong. She admitted to her goals; ambassador of Inferni. What a strange thing to picture, that they should send someone like her. Perhaps they had thought of such a thing; after all, who would think a woman that looked like a child? If she had not come on a horse, he might have believed it. Anatole grunted and flicked an ear dismissively. “So you’re looking to learn about a place that she didn’t even stay in? That’s just foolish.”

He cocked his head a little in order to eye the horse, nervous around it yet. “My name is Anatole. I cannot allow you to pass our borders but perhaps I help you instead. You wanted information, mh? We can trade for it—you coyotes do trade, don’t you?” It was a snide jab, something he hardly seemed concerned about. In truth, he had no qualms about telling a stranger about the Tribe…but all things came at a price.

(213)

There was a wall between him and all others, and Anatole could not fathom being “friendly” to anyone, especially a stranger. He was wary of the other packs, with the knowledge given to him from those who had been through the war. Who knew what the others might have thought of them? Who knew if the coyotes would come looking for weakness? Without true warriors they only had hunters and while similar, there was no way they would be able to defend themselves from true combatants.

Though her answers did not satisfy him, he made an attempt to show nothing. As long as he could get through this he could find something out for the Tribe. “You said it yourself, knowledge is worth having. We can trade knowledge for knowledge; tell me about your home and I will tell you about mine.” And then he was silent, green eyes attentive on her shape. If she truly had come without a veiled goal, then she would be the one to set the bar for their conversation. Without a doubt, he imagined she would not tell him everything—no scout would do such a thing—but perhaps some idea of her clan’s culture would give him a basis as to what she herself was after.