Word Count :: 400+
Little did she know that following her lost mother's old scent trail would lead her right into the hands of the very same mean bitch who tossed the old lady into a cellar two nights ago. But even if Liliya did know that seeking her mother was about to lead her into trouble, the girl would have trekked on. They were family, and there was no tighter bond than that of blood. That, and, she hadn't brought her mother all the way back to Nova Scotia just to lose her after less than a week on dry land!
...If only dry land didn't consist of so many rocks! “Ah!” she hissed and swore again in Russian as she stubbed a toe on a sizable rock. She paused for a moment, shook it off, and kept going. Was she even headed in the right direction? Well, when Verusha left their camp to search for firewood she had gone this general way, but there was nothing to say the woman hadn't wandered off course. One leg longer than the other, you go in circles. The scent she traced was a couple days old, and the longer she followed it the more unsettled she became. With each passing step, the scent of her mother weakened as the scent of that nearby pack overpowered it.
Liliya worked her fingers nervously on the leather strap of her backpack, wondering what lie ahead, and almost as soon as the curiosity crossed her mind, she caught sight of a shadow in the distance. No... not a shadow, but a dark pelted Optime. She squinted. Female. Maybe she had seen her mother...
Every inch of Liliya screamed at her not to pursue. This place was eerie to the Russian. Coming from a place where family was everything, and you were always welcome, it was strange to feel like the very inanimate land rejected you. But if Verusha was in there, she had no choice. She brought her here, she was responsible for getting her out.
“Privyet,” she called to the other. If this one spoke Russian, the informality of her greeting would have been her first mistake. Hell, it might have been even if Eris didn't understand. Remembering her English, she paused for a moment before adding in accented English, “Greeting. I search for my mother. Maybe you have seen her? Gray-brown coyote woman, about this tall.”
Image courtesy of mnshots@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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