Word Count » 384
The hybrid did not know what to make of this shadow she had seen, this dark and ominous thing now lingering in her. Chartreuse eyes stared at the corpse of the goat unhappily, a scowl plainly displayed on the coal-hued woman's face. There hadn't been anything else to see; she would have seen it. Rarely were things so clear-cut as to give her something to avoid, and even in the certainty of their new home, she did not know why exactly it would work, or how things would play out.
Her fingers were drawn to her lips, licking the remnants of liver from it. She would go to the corpse later, when hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she might not return to the cave shared with Larkspur and the children tonight at all. These things needed to be mulled over, and though the hybrid acted on instinct now rather than guidelines, something in her demanded isolation. The distractions of her children would not do. She loved them dearly, more than she had expected, more than she realized was even possible. It was for them she wanted this new place. Of course, it was primarily a desire for power in its own right that drove her toward this new place -- she would make it how she pleased.
The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she listened carefully, recognizing them for who they belonged to only when Larkspur was very nearly through the bushes. His lupus form was less known than the Optime form he seemed to prefer, but the hybrid was not bothered by their disparity of form; her chartreuse-shaded eyes flicked to him expectantly, and she smiled toothily, though it faded quickly.
“Good coming our way,” she said simply, rolling her shoulder in a shrug. There was bad, too, though -- the hybrid sat for a moment, wondering if this shade was their lack of children -- perhaps it would persist, despite their efforts. The thought very nearly startled her, though she kept it disguised from her face, instead sending her eyes downcast and her ears folding back.
“Maybe little bit of bad mixed in,” she said, making no further conjecture as to what it was. She didn't know, and if she had been meant to, she would have seen it.
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