the spark before the blaze.

Larkspur D'Angelo · 07-24-2011, 04:06 PM

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pray to your god, open your heart

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He had known that she would give birth soon, but Larkspur and Eris no longer shared a home and therefore he was not subject to her whims and her desires. Molca bore that burden, though the coyote did so without complaint. Of course, none of the slaves complained after what happened to the male. Larkspur made a point to often strike him, though never hard enough to do serious damage. Touching Salvia had been an unspeakable act. He knew better now. They all did.

Rowan was stitching up a saddle-bag for the upcoming trip south when the coyote came to their door. The red-coated slave spoke to her in hushed tones before allowing her in. Larkspur, half asleep by the fire, rose to his feet. He was in his lupus form, as he often was at home, but even now the coyote-girl barely breached his height; forty-eight inches of pure wolf against her sixty of coyote was impressive. Molca was fidgeting nervously. “Miss Eris, she has given birth,” she said quietly. Though her accent was still thick, her English had improved massively. A snort came from the massive wolf, who looked to Rowan. “Stay here unless I call for you,” he ordered, to which the girl nodded and resumed her task.

“You,” he continued, looking back to Eris’ girl. “Go fetch her water. Tell her I will be along with food.”

∗ ∗ ∗

It had not taken long for him to travel to the pen. The sheep were sleeping, and Larkspur had little difficulty leaping the fence. They were used to his presence, and did not stir even when he snapped the neck of a lamb and carried it off. Larkspur took an easy route towards Eris’ home, and found Molca had done as he asked. With a look he dismissed her and approached the den with his prize still in his jaws.

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