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Draugr is by me!
Draugr hunted in her two-legged form today. It was easier to hunt fish in this form, and the weir made it even easier. Her meal was a large one, several fish cooked over a fire by the slave named Gjalda. Her mother had stolen his real name and all its power, and Gjalda was the only name he had left. The drab-furred hybrid found it easier to direct these creatures, now that she fully understood their position in society.
They were not Luperci, but something else entirely -- some second class of canine unworthy of the full rights and responsibilities of a regular canine. She saw why, of course -- Khirot had chosen his lifestyle, Darijus could do more than subsist anymore, and this Gjalda canine was weak and meager. She would not even allow him to hunt for her; the woody-furred Associate thought it demeaning to allow such a creature to do the hunting. Cooking work was fit for one such as him, but hunting? No, Draugr would procure her own meals.
The dark-furred hybrid pricked her ears up at the call, recognizing the lilting voice as her friend Ataxia. Glancing toward Gjalda, who was in the process of covering the fire with dirt to kill it, the hybrid stood up, sending the fishbones into the river with a flick of her foot. Come with me, she ordered, voice calm and command smoothy delivered. The slave, too, stood up from his hunkered position and tagged along after her, soon trotting to keep up with the wolfdog's quick pace. She came across Ataxia some distance outside of the borders, standing over a big wolf. Draugr's pale purple eyes appraised the situation, and she narrowed her eyes, looking from the pretty horse to the unconscious wolf to Ataxia herself.
What happened? she asked, voice quiet so she might not disturb the injured stranger. The scent of blood was on the air, but he appeared alive enough -- moaning and moving here and there, and clearly still breathing -- and the situation did not appear dire. And who is that?
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