How Do You Pick Up The Threads Of An Old Life?

Vesper · 12-10-2011, 06:06 PM

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Vesper was a watchman for the clan. Even if her mind was still trying to digest the recent developments in her life, even if she’d prefer to wander outside of the territory again, she had to perform her duty in Inferni. She had been trusted enough to be promoted to the task she desired, and she wasn’t going to throw her responsibilities away just because she was distracted.

A sigh escaped the coywolf’s slender muzzle, and she turned her head with pricked ears to a rustling in the nearly bare undergrowth. Twigs clattered as a squirrel raced from the vegetation and skittered past her, causing her to wrinkle her lips back in a silent, warning snarl. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she preferred to err on the side of overly cautious instead of walking blind and deaf along the border stakes.

The Vigiles sniffed the air experimentally then continued with her patrol, at least until another scent drifted on the freezing winter breezes. It was a pack smell that she didn’t recognize—but it was still an unwelcome one. Her mind filtered through the facts—wolf, male, young—and bounding forward on all fours she headed toward the intruding scent.

A glance at the skulls hanging off the stakes and tree branches told anyone that the slim, curly-furred dark male was not quite over the territory boundary. However, the youth wasn’t simply passing by, which was something that Vesper would have allowed him. He was sitting and waiting, bundled up in a cloak, muttering something to himself.

The tawny coywolf growled, stepping in between the nearest stakes and setting her cold blue eyes on him. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice not friendly but not unduly harsh, either. He had not yet committed the grievous error of stepping over the boundaries, but her suspicion was acute in her angular face.

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