there's a lullaby for suffering and a paradox to blame

POSTED: Fri Feb 02, 2018 9:31 pm

The charred remains of a building—little more than a sooty husk, now—left her feeling jarred; it was a feeling she carried with her further south, determined to find the coyotes before her friend had time to come looking for her, before her intentions could be questioned once more.

Her dishonesty followed her like a shadow she was eager to escape.

It made sense for Kaly and Lee to settle in Cour des Miracles; Sumari, Persis, and Rahab had no real ties there, save for their siblings. The separate litters had always seemed destined for different things, though. She would leave the twirling and flower crowns to her elders; these past few months had been consumed by blood and fire, and Ray didn't see why that trend couldn't or shouldn't continue.

Armand, happy to trail along wherever she went, had decided to follow; she had warned him about possible prejudices, and these hollow warnings fell on deaf ears. It became apparent the further they went that he would not turn back.

The red-eyed dog stalked ahead in the snow and scrub grass, his big muzzle hovering a mere half-inch above the ground, while Rahab rode astride her Akhal-Teke. Hala was not the mount she would have preferred for such rocky terrain - Divya was surefooted where the sleek perlino was fast - but the Marwari had been badly bruised during the crossing, and she wouldn't risk injuring him any further.

Smells weird, Armand complained when they were closer.

Smells like coyotes. Rahab said, irritation punctuating her words; it had never occurred to her that the man-child might consider her odd.

Didn't mean anything, Ray, He tried to backpedal, his floppy ears half-folding.

Right, sure, she retorted, glaring slightly, this is close enough, I think.

She was the one who called, and for the first time the yapping element to her howl gave her second thought.

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POSTED: Sun Feb 11, 2018 1:10 pm


Since the mongrels were driven out, Inferni's borders had not been challenged. Sometimes curious folk came sniffing around, wanderers or diplomats, but Vicira knew this would be a common thing now that their territory had been clearly established. Enough months had passed that all the region probably knew of their self-exile.

She did not care, or told herself so. She had worse things to worry about, anyway: a few more weeks of winter, numbers dwindling from desertion or death, even things as simple as her relationship with her children.

At the yapping call, Vicira took a breath, then wheeled the blue-eyed pinto to greet yet another stranger.

Today's had been a long patrol, and Tigana frothed in spite of the cold and snow. Vicira let her slow to a walk long before they reached the source of the cry, dark ears heeding the mare's deep breaths, and shifted sore muscles. Despite this, she (and her mount) carried themselves with quiet, self-assured dominance as they reached a border heavy with their own scents.

Spotting a hybrid astride a glimmering horse, Vici's eyes widened with interest.

She glanced at the dog a moment after, but a brief frown was her only indication of disappointment. She shook her head and addressed the hybrid, her tone gentler than her blunt words would suggest. What do you want?

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