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Inferni decorated its border with skulls to warn away any potential trespassers. Salsola preferred subtlety when it came to border defense, tucking their traps into the thistle. Sticking skulls on one's border was admittedly quite a way to earn reputation, but the sable hybrid did not think she wished Salsola to carry the same sort of overtly terrible reputation as her cousins. Salsola might have the same dangerous edge to it, of course, but the sable hybrid preferred to keep her blade concealed.
She was not, in fact, carrying metal on this day. She did not own a combat-styled knife; her only weapon was the twisted staff in her hand, carried to look more like a supportive item than a weapon, though she did not limp. Already her body had recovered from child-birth, leaving only an edge of added weight and heaviness in her breasts. Even if she had been unarmed and injured, The Auxiliary feared little so close to her home territory. One howl, and all of Salsola might descend upon them.
The stranger called out a word, one that Eris did not recognize, and thus ignored. The other words, however, were in English, albeit heavily accented. Indeed, the woman spoke of the very coyote Eris had just carted off to the center of Salsola's territory. Sizing the other female up in silence a moment, Eris leaned her weight on the stick and put a defiant hand upon her hip. Does your mother make a habit of trespassing? The Auxiliary asked. Her voice contained no anger; it was a simple question, asked almost warmly.
There hadn't been any rage in the sable she-wolf when she had even discovered the dottering old woman, this hybrid's mother. She had broken the laws of the pack -- all packs, in truth, for the sable canid did not know of many packs tolerant of trespassing -- and Eris had dealt with her accordingly. It was truly a simplistic matter in the sable coyote's mind, though as always, she was unable to place herself in the opposition's perspective. Perhaps if she had considered Pandemic or Artemisia being enslaved by some foreign pack, a mote of sympathy might have resonated within her.
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