Vesper had learned a lot about ravens, and one of the more surprising details was how similar they were to the clan coyotes. Observing them, she learned that they were cunning and opportunistic, and that they were heavily devoted to their families even if they often bickered amongst each other. Many even learned words of the same language, and it was interesting to hear their croaking conversations peppered with high speech.

Plus, the birds liked to play.

The coywolf yapped laughter as she chased after one of the young females, leaping up and stretching out her pale forepaws to bat at her tail-feathers. With a few strong flaps of its wings, it flew out of reach and added in a loop for good measure before barking back at the canine. She grinned and growled in response before whirling as claws hooked in her tail. She snapped at the culprit, who soon initiated another game of “catch-me-if-you-can.” This time, it didn’t take long for even more of the others to want to join in, and soon they began to pursue each other, some locking claws midflight and swapping obscene banter.

Eventually, the ravens became so caught up in messing with each other that Vesper was abandoned. Her tail wagging, she panted and grinned up at them, watching their dark shapes wing agilely through the trees. It was strange how a reluctant partnership with just one of the fascinating creatures had led into such respect and fondness for the whole Inferni flock.

Stark would get a kick out of hearing her admit that.

The scarred Centurion grinned and took a seat, tucking her tail against her haunch. She let her eyes half-close as she enjoyed the sounds of rustling leaves and flapping wings, at least until an alarm call had her jumping back onto all fours and staring at a newcomer. The bird dove at her, attempting to land on her back and stumbling slightly. She turned her head, ear swiveled forward, and listened as it clacked about a wolf near the borders. Using accented raven-speech of her own, she thanked it and promised it meat after she’d taken care of the issue, and then she turned northward with a grim frown.

It was a relatively straight shot to the staked boundaries of the territory, and she made it in as fast a lope she could manage, while conserving enough energy to fight if she needed to. As always, she prayed it didn’t come to that, but meetings with wolves at the borders rarely turned out pleasant. Her stomach twisted with anxiety as she finally trotted closer and saw a large arctic wolf staring at the skulls.

Her dappled hackles stiffened, but the small coyote did not growl when she caught the stranger’s scent. She tried to think of Zalen’s promises, tried not to pass judgment, but her expression was suspicious and tense as she stepped up to the border with her tail raised. She might not have bothered with such dominant posture if she didn’t know how alive wolf instincts could be; this might be a challenge, but it might also simply show who she was and ask him to show some respect.

“What are you doing so close to our borders?” Vesper asked coolly.

Word Count → 544

Fine with me! ^^

Vesper tried to be understanding when it came to how others viewed her clan, but there was little she could to when others grew aggressive. She believed that many Inferni practices were justified, at any rate, and hated it when she couldn’t make others understand them—namely, that the dark fire clan largely had its bad reputation due to others striking them first. Coyotes were hated and cast aside, and they became a threat when banded together—and, therefore, wars began, trouble started, territories swapped and blood spilled. She did not make excuses for some of her comrades—those who hated wolves as much as wolves hated their kind—but she did not tolerate harm to her comrades, either.

While her posture was confident and untroubled, the small she-yote was actually quite tense as the large arctic wolf stared at her. She made quick note of his damaged eye, and judging from the age of it and the rest of him decided he would be used to protecting that side, compensating for his weakness. Perhaps if she attacked him without going for the obvious target, she could catch him off guard—but no. She ended the thoughts there, even if they weren’t entirely harmful; she could easily scuffle with another canine for fun without killing them. If it did come to a fight, however, she knew it would have far more serious consequences than a sparring match, and she did not want to jeopardize the relationship she’d cultivated with New Dawn. The two groups were distrustful of each other as it was.

The white male spoke predictable words, and she had to fight off a smirk. Every wolf immediately took the skulls as a personal affront, and while it was nice to see a species band together, it was pathetic as well. Unless the wolf meant his actual blood brothers were hanging on a stake, he was foolish and unoriginal for pointing out what he did.

Vesper drew herself up slightly more (as much as a small, lupus-formed coywolf could) and grinned openly at him. There was a touch of derision in her eyes, but not outright hate, and she spoke in an oddly good-natured (if rather sarcastic) tone. “I assume that your brothers are trespassers, murderers, and rapists then?” she challenged him. “If so, I have no pity for them, you’ll have to understand.”

She shook her head and grinned again. “Actually, good wolf, if you were to walk around the borders and study the skulls, you’ll notice there are even some coyotes to break up the monotony. Or, at least one—a pup-killer. Oh, and a pretty elk skull somewhere—but I guess that sorry beast didn’t deserve it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’re so barbaric.”

Word Count → 458

Aw, yours was fine. This one mostly consists of Vesper making fun of him. xD

She was flawed, just like the rest of them. No creature liked to think that they were wrong; all took pride in their species, their religion, their morality. They were right, and any beast that thought otherwise was a heretic. Vesper had been on both sides of the same coin, and it was a struggle to switch it back around again and open her eyes and ears and pay attention. In short, she half expected the wolf to just bow his head and concede her point and leave them alone—but life was never that easy or simple.

His laugh made her narrow her eyes, but there were no other signs of aggression from her. She had the grace to listen, at least, even if it was only because she relished the thought of tearing apart his theories and opinions like so many refresh rabbits.

The darkness in his tone, as well as the harshness of the questions, caused an odd expression to come to her scar-riddled visage. It was not quite angry itself, except perhaps in a defensive way, and there was a little bit of something like hurt in it, too, although that quickly went away. She shook her head once, stiffly, and replied in a softer tone.

“We do not call ourselves a pack, no, but we operate like one. True coyotes are usually out for themselves, yes—my mother among them—but that is nature, and that is not unlike many lone wolves. Some of us have reasons for not belonging.” Such as herself, an independent loner, before the friendship she forged with the clan gave her purpose and became her purpose.

She took a deep breath. “I will not lie to you,” Vesper said plainly, and fixed her eyes sharply on his so that he might listen. “I have the same excuses you wolves use, and we coyotes use, to justify our inane hatred for each other—that a group has done wrong, a wolf has bullied, a coyote has scavenged, and so the entire species must be evil.” It took more control than she’d admit to keep her voice from shaking. Her chest burned with hatred taking form as hope—that this was a chance to persuade, one she might never get again. “My wolf father raped my mother, assaulted my sister. Wolves came here just recently and waged war on us because of our species, because some god of theirs decreed it, and little else. I do not blame my comrades for distrusting them, even if I have no problem with wolves, either—we’re all canines, and we can breed together, and most of us are hybrids anyway.” Her eyes hardened as she followed his gaze.

“That wolf tried to kill one of our children, and almost beat to death the child’s mother.” Vesper’s tone was devoid of emotion. “If we killed him for being 'different', it was because he was a murderer, and I’m sorry that you cannot see that.” She took a seat, continued to stare at him. “If you have nothing else to say, if you will not stop pretending to know our motives, please leave. I am again honest when I say that I don’t want this situation to escalate.”

Word Count → 536

Had to longpost instareply because I like this. And Vesper surprised me by being ubercalm about it.

Vesper tried to pretend that she did not care. She presented herself to the world as an aloof individual with a stake only in what was immediate, what was intimately hers—but all of it was a carefully crafted lie to keep her weaknesses at bay. The truth of the matter was that the coywolf did care, and her speech to the white wolf bordered on manic, smoothed over by cool tones but vibrating with the passion erupting in her chest. She hated the prejudice and the hate with a dangerous chaos, a chaos barely directed to her cause. At her heart a wannabe revolutionary, the yet-young hybrid wanted to be able to pretend she’d done any good before she died. Even if she managed to bring about the opinion of one hateful wolf, one wolf who curled his lips at her species without stopping to understand, she would feel accomplished.

It was all pathetic and sad, really, and she knew she would hate herself for all of this emotion in the morning.

And then the impossible happened—the half-blind wolf shot a smile her way, a smile devoid of the acidity she’d been expecting. She shifted her paws slightly, the only sign of awkwardness after her calm rebuttal, then turned her good ear forward when the older male began to speak, apologizing, and apologizing again on behalf of “his kind.” Those words made her look at the ground for the briefest of moments, wondering why he felt entitled again, but she didn’t reject the apology.

The tawny female nodded when he gave his name. “Vesper,” she responded with a light nod of acknowledgment. A half-smirk tugged at her lips when he mentioned New Dawn, confirming what she had suspected, but it was a weary one. She shook her head at the last apology and stifled a sigh. “I forgive you,” she stated, and wondered just how much of that was true and how much she trusted him to be ashamed. He’d sounded quite passionate, and while she felt her return argument was logical, she knew it wouldn’t dispel the aggression of a likewise heated wolf. “I understand that the skulls—that the skulls can easily bear the wrong message, for those who want to see it. What we see as a warning more violent wolves see as a threat, and the cycle is never-ending.” In truth, the skulls made her uncomfortable just because of how much trouble was generated from their existence—but she couldn’t imagine taking something like that away from the clan. Like their wars, the skulls were Inferni’s history, and rooted too deeply in Inferni’s culture to ever change that.

Vesper shifted her paws a final time and decided that, if Shandom would be civil and stick around after their verbal scuffle, she might as well lighten the mood with less serious talk. “How are Zalen and his mate doing?” she asked, and added despite herself, “And Kiara and her daughter, too, if you know them?”

Word Count → 500