The routine of life was very familiar now. The routine was carried out almost automatically, as if the success of the day depended on such regularity. Of course, it was the irregularities that created excitement within the sanguine soul of the tenebrous fae. While training and carrying out the duties that her master, Salvia, had instructed of her was what she called her ‘necessary freedom,’ the feral creature did not deny that the suddenness of something new was welcomed. Always she wished to find a trespasser. Unlike the ranked wolves, the Slave of the Flame was not lenient to trespassers. Unless Salvia would instruct her to do otherwise, the slave always took it upon herself to eliminate the strangers on the border. Wolves that were marked by the scent of other packs were excluded—in fact, the slave would avoid them entirely, watching them only to make sure that they did not violate the ancient laws of the scent-marked borders. Loners, however, were not given such leniencies. The Slave would attack and kill. After the incidents of two packless groups invading Salsola, the Slave of the Flame became more aggressive in her duties. Survivors were those lucky enough to escape back over the boarders, which bound the slave more strongly than the ranked ones. Carcasses were left as a warning. Perhaps the ranked wolves had not noticed enough to reprimand her. Or perhaps they approved. The Korean did not know.

A familiar scent met the black fae’s damp maw. It was one she had scented often at the pack meetings, and she remembered that she had fought alongside this scent. But the feral female had not found reason to further relate to this scent. Salvia was the only one to whom she truly answered, and with Salvia’s recent rise to power, this became more true. Lunar orbs sifted through the ruins and found the moving body—the secui shape of the scent. The colour of the pelt was familiar as well, but that was all. The Korean hybrid paused, her powerful movements growing still. In her natural form, she was much smaller than the young ranked oned, but she was not concerned. The slave, her posture lowered as she was taught to do, simply watched. It was as if she were tentative of approaching, for those fathomless eyes beheld nothing that would say otherwise. However, the slave was not tentative. She simply was moved to patrol the boarders, as her self-training had been complete hours before. The Jindo-wolf did not think she would need to interact with the ranked one in whose presence she now stood. Slowly, the lowered, black plume of death waved thoughtfully behind her sinewy form.

The posture of the slave remained unchanged. These days, she moved through the slave’s world with familiar ease. The obsidian female’s resting posture was submissive. Perhaps her tail was not held so far between her legs, perhaps her lunar gaze drifted too high and grazed the gazes of the ranked ones. But the fighter did not overstep her boundaries in the manner of her actions. Salvia had given her many privileges—the privilege to fight and to hunt—and TaeKyung did not forget. Although her instincts dominated her actions more acutely than most ‘civilized’ luperci, the shattered mind found enough control to quiet the sanguine hunger of her jaws. The taekwondo martial artist had become only a fighter and nothing more, misusing the art to cause chaos and destruction. The Korean was good at what she did and worked without mercy. She trained relentlessly and used each battle to further her growth. And that was it. That was her life. Within Salsola, it allowed her to exist and survive. Like a simple leashed beast, she could be unleashed to release a dangerous force. But without Salvia’s command, the feral beast was dormant. The wolves of Salsola were safe enough from the blood lust of that shattered mind, and perhaps she was, in turn, safe from her own undoing.

Black, hornlike auricles lifted, swiveling above the darkened crania to capture the command issued. The Korean remained unmoving, the lunar orbs alone lifting in response. Her plain yet exotic face, darkened by her violence, was impassive. The golden ring at her maw glinted in the light, a dull reminder of her worthlessness. The Slave of the Flame was willing to comply, however, with the Salsolan. The young ranked one’s command did not contradict that of her master. The Jindo-wolf preferred her solitude. She did no longer functioned within the social aspects of life, keeping her style of fighting and her thoughts—if they could remain intact long enough for memory—close to her cold heart. Her own growth came from each battle, battles that often ended, inevitably, in the opponent’s death. Recently, she had come to grudgingly begin training with short range weapons—daggers and knives mostly—although she kept that at a minimum. Long range weapons had never interested her. There were ways to deal with opponents who chose to wield such things.

“예,” the alto, accented voice responded. The simplicity of her response may have been mistaken for disrespect, but the response itself was given in the honorific form. Lean muscle propelled the tenebrous creature, the golden septum ring glinting in the light. The Slave of the Flame followed at the ranked-one’s heels, the black plume moving behind her in response to her gait. The ferocity of the fighter glimmered within the frosty depths, and her gaze flickered from the earth to the one she followed. “TaeKyung kill intruders.” The quiet voice offered both a description of her activities and an offer of service to her superior. “For you,” she added as an afterthought. Not all wolves had the action to kill, although they may have the desire. A slave such as the Jindo-wolf hybrid could be used for such things. The sanguine jaws of the Korean were always hungry.