Word Count → 526
The disappointment and disapproval in the other’s amber eyes struck Vesper hard, but she had never given a damn what others thought of her. She sought no one’s approval; she was her own beast to do whatever she wanted. It had begun as defiance and evolved into deep-rooted pride, and in the back of her mind she assured herself that she didn’t have to listen to any of what her friend had to say.
But because it was her friend, she would listen. While she might have turned away from anyone else wishing, no doubt, to admonish her for her actions, she would grant X’yrin a listening ear out of respect.
The hardened lines of the Nomad’s face softened after a while, and crouching she extended a hand. Tentatively, Vesper reached out with her own paw, though hers rested a few inches from the other on the ground—not full acceptance of the offer, but her blue eyes remained questioning and expectant. These were still coyote grounds, and they could still be seen; the meeting and the branding of Sage as a traitor had made Vesper slightly more wary in her interpack friendships, though she told herself that friendship alone didn’t mean her loyalty to Inferni was any different. She still didn’t want to think of what might happen should her loyalty be tested ultimately when it came to the Ichikans she cared about.
The Exultare woman’s prompting question caused her eyes to cut away and her large ears to lower; of course she knew. She returned her gaze as X’yrin continued, speaking of shame and change that Ves herself hadn’t been aware of. She scowled, ears still pinned close to her skull.
“I was defending my borders. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding, but—I must think like everyone is out to kill me unless proven otherwise.” Her tone sharpened as she recited both the lessons from her Aquila and from her own life as a gangrel wandering the northern wilderness. “I’ve been hurt too many times to change my way of thinking, X’yrin. If things had happened differently that day, I would have been happier. But I’m not going to bow and scrape my chin along the ground in apology when I was only being cautious.”
Vesper knew that everything that came from her jaws sounded like excuses—which was probably not too far off the mark, but right now she knew them to be logic enough and let her ears slowly lift. There was a pause, and then she drove home the point that she had clutched to her breast since joining the clan and experiencing the violence some of her comrades possessed.
“I wasn’t going to kill that poor fool. I do not kill.”
And of that, she was adamant. She was not a murderer. Not since Oliver was sobbing in her jaws. Not since the first girl she’d loved had looked upon her like she was a monster. As much blood as she’d spilled, she would never kill unless she absolutely had to; and that was what made her different from the genocidal coyotes that crept through the dark corners of Inferni.
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