Viral is the truth [DND]

Eris Eternity · 10-03-2011, 01:55 AM

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The coal-hued woman inhaled the salt sharpened scent of her Salsola. The faint, flowered smell of their gardens was still faintly palpable to her leathery nose, even at this distance. The afternoon sun had no scent, but the hybrid imagined it would smell something like Salsola. Flowers and earth and the faintest hue of leftover ash, evidence of the burning flame at the center of it all. Their fires would burn brightly again soon, she knew. Eris's own flame had been tiny and pitiful against the expanse of black night, but she had burned it anyway, and with it she had burned all the fever and sickness from her life. It had been good since then, but she had not thought of Shibboleth. She would not think of the girl; her mind reeled away from the pale child the moment she so much as nudged herself toward the inevitable.

The woman's feet padded against the stony ground, the autumn wind already nibbling at her. As she walked, licking fingers of breeze whipping in from the coast tousled and ruffled her shadowy fur. Winter would settle over them soon, no doubt. With it, the cold and ice and snow. She was built for it, and she had suffered in Eternian summers for her thick coat and small ears. Her children would be ready, too -- what was left of them, anyway. Her thoughts buzzed around Shibboleth again, Solanaceae -- gone, both of them. One by fire and one by tooth and claw. The pieces left of the darker child left no clue as to what the culprit had been; Eris had smelled nothing, but Larkspur had proposed a feline culprit. She trusted his judgment.

She meandered, coursing the perimeter of the pack border loosely. The holes in her heart ached faintly, but she would cut them out soon enough; hollows were better than holes, after all. The scent of blood caught her nose, and the woman paused, tasting the air. Bastion -- and something else? Curiosity drove her forward, though there was no urgency in her step. Bastion could hold his own, small and odd as he was. So long as his assailant gave him a moment to speak, Bastion could talk his way out of most anything, Eris thought. She did not underestimate the small, feminine boy and his sharp tongue.

She saw him moments later, chartreuse gaze lighting upon his pale, cream-hued back. The wolf padded toward her Arbiter, making ample noise to alert him of her approach. She was drawn to a strange sight, peering down at a baby younger and smaller than her own youngest children. There was a dead hare, and smears of crimson on the baby's face, clearly from the chunk of meat in Basti's fingers. Eris understood what was going on, and she shook her head.

Oh, Basti, she murmured, smiling patiently toward her Arbiter. He can't eat that. Too young, darling, too young. There was no hint of chiding in her voice, and the coal-hued woman, unbidden, reached for the baby, intending to draw him to her breast. He needs mother's milk, The Auxiliary purred. She was still producing enough to feed the little one.

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