Tlantli is by Alaine!

The tawny-furred woman moved through the ruins, favoring her injured leg. She stank of dried blood and old injuries, gauze and the plants she'd been using to heal her injuries. Red marks showed through her fur here and there -- they were the clean and neat cuts of swords and bladed weapons, not the jagged things torn by Luperci claws and teeth. She bared her own fangs even thinking of the men and women who had attacked them, their reliance on weapons to inflict damage. It was not the way Tlantli fought.

She saw the disadvantage this group posed, however, and she had chosen to move her plans forward, even without a horse. She had considered stealing one from the stables, one of the communal beasts -- but the only one she trusted was the buckskin, and he was too docile even for her tastes. The rest were surly beasts, unfit for the long journey she must march. Perhaps an equivalent beast might be procured in Freetown -- Tlantli did not know, and she no longer had the time to care.

The stirring in her was evident, the change that signaled motherhood. She was not experienced enough to have recognized it immediately, and she judged herself a few days gone. This was as she had planned, though, and the woman knew her plan had included mobile birth from the beginning. She would need to settle down for a few weeks, of course, but she was prepared for this, as well. A longing had overtaken her entirely, and the pale yellow woman wished nothing more than to see the expanses of desert and mountainside caves again. It will be long months before that, she thought, sighing audibly.

Her inhale brought the fresh scent of The Auxiliary, the canine she sought. Sister, once -- no more. The hall where their group meals were taken was alight with torches, and Tlantli headed there, straightening her stride as she went.

Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

The dark-furred woman stood with her arms crossed, glaring at a trembling Molcaxitl. The slave had committed no particular wrong-doing, but on occasion, Eris simply enjoyed the feeling of absolute power -- she had been reminded lately, all too frequently, how limited her power truly was. Those outside of Salsola did not necessarily respect it, and their attackers certainly did not respect it. Still, what complaint could she make? Salsola had broken every attack they'd faced thus far. She had every reason to be proud of her canines. This still did not negate the fact that there were those out there who wished her Salsola harm. The sable Auxiliary honestly could not begin to fathom why.

She looked back toward Molcaxitl after a moment and smiled faintly. No matter, that's not your fault. The dark-furred hybrid's grin broadened as the relief spread across the slave-woman's face. Her attentions were drawn from her companion, however, as another presence made itself known. Eris turned, shining green eyes perceiving Tlantli and widening with surprise. Tlantli, the woman greeted, though she did not step forward to deliver the customary greeting. Surprised as she was, cool composure came quickly to Eris -- here was a subordinate, and Tlantli certainly knew it -- the woman's lowered ears and averted eyes were sign enough of this.

Tlantli is by Alaine!

Though the tawny-furred coyote's heart was certain, nervousness bloomed in her all the same. Such could not be helped -- this situation was a harrowing one. Tlantli need only look to her heart for strength, however, for she knew the truth of the path she walked. Was there any point in delaying? She could make small talk, and Eris would know all of it as falsity the moment Tlantli's proclamation escaped her lips. The tawny woman dallied on this point for a moment without answering the dark canine's greetings.

I am leaving. Going back south -- back to Eterne. The confidence with which she spoke surprised even Tlantli, but the tawny coyote disguised her surprise well. Now that the words had escaped her maw, there was no turning back, was there? She needed to leave, and leave tonight. She'd spoke her intent aloud, and there was no unsaying those words. The red-eyed woman's focus intensified on her Auxiliary, her red eyes daring to meet the woman's face. It was black of fur and black with rage. Tlantli did not waver, however; her carnelian-hued eyes flickered up further, daring to meet the woman's gaze. This challenge went unanswered, and the flaxen woman wondered if her leader might be at a loss for words.

Eris is by Kiri, a gift from Sylvey!

The pale coyote, slimmer and sharper than Eris by far, did not return her greeting. Eris was at first perplexed by this; following perplexity, a small bubble of anger bloomed in her. Green-yellow eyes narrowed at the Family-ranked canine, and the dark-hued woman prepared to admonish her subordinate. The woman spoke at long last, sparing herself the brunt of the Auxiliary's anger. The words themselves, however, stunned Eris more than the small display of defiance that had preceded them.

Words failed her entirely for a long moment, even as red eyes the color of a fire's heart looked upward and to the dark woman's own gaze. Eris struggled to find a response, her lip drawing upward in a reflexive half-snarl. Molcaxitl shuffled on the edge of her vision, and the dark woman's head swiveled toward the slave, snakelike and venomous as a viper. Out, she commanded, her voice demanding compliance. The coydog was all too happy to oblige, and scuttled away, disappearing beneath a stone archway.

You... will not be welcomed here again, sister. This last word was spit from her dark muzzle, much the same way she might spit a curse at someone. Anger roiled in her, and her paw itched to reach out and slap the woman. Self-preserving instincts held her back: even if she could call the rest of Salsola here, Tlantli might gravely injure her beforehand. She did not put it past the yellow-furred coyote to commit such atrocities, and the dark woman began to regret sending Molcaxitl away -- not that the slave was any use whatsoever in defense.

Tlantli is by me!

Tlantli had noticed the slave, but paid her no mind. Chattel such as the slave-woman was of no consequence to the flaxen coyote. Her mistress was the important thing to remember. Tlantli's gaze followed the retreating servant, but returned immediately to the Auxiliary. Tlantli supposed Eris was no longer her Auxiliary -- had she not just renounced her membership to this pack? A strange calm came over her, seeing the dark woman's uncertainty and useless anger. Tlantli had expected an explosion, she had expected to be chased from Salsola -- but it did not seem either would be the case.

The coal-furred woman's response surprised the flaxen coyote, and she cocked her head to one side, though this was all the curiosity she gave to the words. Sisterhood had long fallen from either of their minds, or so Tlantli thought -- Eris had not treated her as a sister since the summer. The wheaten coyote considered, and lifted both shoulders in a shrug, setting her mouth in a thin line. That is fine. I do not plan to return, she said. I am loyal, but you do not want me here, so I go. The woman paused, considering, and almost as an afterthought, tacked on more. My brother, my mate? They stay. They are loyal, as far as I know. This is my own doing. Mine alone, the coyote declared, her voice unwavering as the carnelian eyes which remained locked onto the blazing green-yellow of her former superior.

(224)

Eris is by Requiem!

Her mind was already spinning into conspiracies: Tlantli was not really leaving to her faraway desert home; she was defecting, going to another pack, selling Salsolian secrets. Her mate, her brother, anyone she'd ever touched, was therefore suspect for treachery. The hybrid's mind reeled with the possibilities, and it left her feeling sickly and hollow. Even the woman's words were not enough -- who could she truly trust, aside from her own? Her Family should not be so fragmented as this, even in her mind. A strange fear blossomed deep within the dark-furred woman, perhaps just an inkling of truth, or perhaps the beginnings of true paranoia. Eris could not tell, and perhaps this was what scared her most of all.

Go, then, she snapped, advancing a half-step toward the yellow coyote, as if to drive her from the territory then and there. Leave now! I should declare you traitor here and now, pentiti forever, she threatened, dark lips drawn back into an ugly snarl. Her eyes were bright as the midday sun, and she thought her job of masking fear with anger adequate enough. She should not be so afraid -- why should she? Tlantli was going far away, and she could do no harms to Salsola. What seeds did she already plant, though? the Auxiliary's paranoia demanded stubbornly.

Tlantli is by Nat!

The flaxen-hued coyote could not tell if her words had any affect whatsoever: the dark woman's response was less than hopeful, but what could she hope to glean here and now? She had not been able to trust this hybrid for many months now, though they'd once been sisters. It had never been Tlantli's intention to harm those she cared about still within Salsola. She did not care for Ezequiel, but even so -- he had taken risk for her, and she had been indebted to him for that. That debt was paid, however, so far as Tlantli saw it -- her "mate" was ranked Family, a rare privilege in this pack.

The dark woman's response and half-step did not sway Tlantli, who did not flinch away. She might have if she had chosen to confront Sirius and he had stepped toward her -- perhaps. She did not fear Eris, however, and the sand-colored coyote offered only a blank stare toward the Auxiliary, considering her for a moment. Finally, Tlantli shrugged and offered a thin smile, lacking in any amusement whatsoever. So be it, she said, and started to turn. The dark woman chose that moment to jerk forward, her clawed hand flashing. Tlantli's swift hand caught Eris's wrist in midair, closer to her face than she would have liked, but before impact all the same.

Tlantli is by Alaine!

She did not want to hurt Eris, but the dark-furred hybrid seemed insistent on this happening: she moved again for Tlantli, and the yellow coyote had no choice but to hurt the dark-hued woman in return, hoping she did not scream for all of Salsola. The former Crone understood this creature to be one far too proud to stoop to such lowly measures, however. Tlantli had made no threats on the sable coyote's life, nor had she been the aggressor: they both understood the summoning of others was a show of weakness. Or, at least, Tlantli hoped this was the case -- it might have simply not occurred to Eris to call the pack down yet.

Sister, sister, she chided, shaking her tawny head from side to side. Her red eyes gleamed, and she sneered, the razor-sharp tips of her teeth just showing against the black of her lips. Both of us know you can't. You are weak. You will be the downfall of your pack. What good you do for Salsola? Drive away your own sister, that's what. Maybe your children will leave, too, someday? The suggestion widened the grin upon the woman's lips, and her eyes and voice promised unspeakable things. Maybe your mate, maybe your lovely -- Sirius, she said, hesitating before even speaking the name herself. It was not for respect of the pack's tradition, though -- not in the least. She still feared him, and perhaps it was that fear helping to drive her away.

The pale woman released her former Auxiliary's wrist, half-heartedly shoving the woman back. She herself took a step or two backward, though they were not quick steps. She turned her back to the other woman, and began walking away.

(268)

The tawny-furred coyote had ignored the woman's hurtled insults, her threats. They were of no consequence -- Tlantli was leaving the area entirely; what did she care if Salsola declared her pentiti Certainly, if Eris had the sense to think about it, she might have threatened Miqui -- she might have declared all the Kimaris family pentiti. Perhaps that would come to her later, but the yellow-furred woman had gone too far to consider such consequences.

The question, however, gave her pause. The coyote stopped walking, tilting her head back. She considered answering a long moment, wavering between spitting her response out in a harried way and simply carrying on forward and every possibility. In the end, she did neither. Tlantli turned around and faced the woman, her-shadow-furred face all frothy with useless rage.

I have no place here. My strengths are not wanted. You make that clear to me, the woman said, simply. Her slim shoulders were defiantly squared, and her feet were planted wide and apart. Even injured, she was certain the sable-furred woman was no threat to her. You do not want me here, Eris. You ignore what I give to Salsola. Why should I stay is the better question. She was defiant, her arms crossing over her chest. A bright red track covered her forearm, and the other elbow ached from a fall.

But that is a question you can answer to the wind, the rocks, the trees. Give your answer to them, the flaxen-hued woman said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. I do not want it.

Tlantli is by Kitty!

Eris is by me!

Eris had no answer to give, even if Tlantli had wanted it. She listened with pricked ears, her anger turning slowly to intent and then sudden sourness across her tongue, regret and shame flooding her as she realized her errors. Here was one who might have given her good counsel, strength and aid, loyalty and perhaps even love, if Eris had been patient enough to coax it from her. The dark-furred woman gaped at the tawny woman, trying to keep her face masked and indifferent. Her efforts might or might not have been successful -- the tawny hued coywolf merely smiled, inclining her sharply-lined head toward the dark woman once more.

Then, she turned and walked away. Where, Eris did not know -- she supposed the woman's eventual destination was Eterne, but long months and miles separated Eterne and Tlantli. Maybe it was a ruse, and the dust-hued woman intended to slip away into one of the other packs. As the woman departed, the dark-hued woman could only stand in her place, a faint tremble running through her. The full extent of her folly had yet to dawn on her -- surely, as she spent weeks dissecting this encounter and the weeks and months preceding it, running it all over in her mind, she would discover the true depth of her errors. Or, perhaps not.