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Something had possessed her to travel to the godforsaken territory. Maybe it was her own empty headed foolishness, but for a half crippled wolf the wastes were as unpleasant as it got. Misery had been careful to only walk along the very southern strip - the scent of coyotes was heavy, and she knew well enough to avoid them. If Inferni still stood, they would tear an old wolf apart with a cheery kind of glee. They reminded her of home. Outsiders were to be destroyed, only those in the family to be kept alive. Misery glared at a sharp rock that she had whacked her bad leg on and mentally wished she could have torn the lands apart. She couldn't fathom why the coyotes would want such treacherous terrain.
Misery had no problem with coyotes. Some wolves couldn't stand them - Misery couldn't have cared less either way. She'd gotten along well enough with the matriarch of souls former territory - she'd tattooed the old woman and found her darkly beautiful. Ahren had sired a large litter with the woman, and her fondness of him extended to the coyotes and various half breeds. But being close was dangerous, and she knew it was probably best to turn back towards Anathema soon. She'd killed a man with her walking stick before, but that had been many years ago. The slick black cane in her hand was planted firmly as she turned, ready to walk away from the wastes. It had been a fugacious trip, but a worthwhile one.
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