It could not be denied the feather-furred dog had led a nondescript existence in her time at the court, for the most part. She had become a fixture in the hotel, as dusty and stationary as the ancient decor. She had let life shine through in places, just as the Courtiers could blow away the dust in places, but there was always too much to clean, too many spiderwebs in too many corners. But Caspa was not unhappy, and in a strange way she loved the old building and the wide mystery-cornered lands surrounding her. There was both strength and freedom here - the Miracles pack was not the most secure or rigorously guarded, and trouble did filter in through the cracks - but the core was one of courage and loyalty, like the bond between travellers or thieves, unspoken but unbreakable. One that didn't rely on blood or obedience, and did not turn away the outcast or the misfit. Sometimes, this nobility was not to their benefit. A sense of justice and fairness was not always easily carried, and sometimes left them with no alternative but to risk everything, such as when they'd gone to war against the AniWayan pack, or when Caspa had launched herself into the fist of the slaver, unable to stand aside and allow the oppression to continue while there was still strength in her body.
Both Caspa and the Court had made enemies, the difference being she lacked enough strength to vanquish hers. If the strength of the Cour des Miracles was waning, it was not obvious to Caspa, and that was not the reason she hadn't looked to her packmates to help her with her undertaking. She had not told a soul about her fight, and hoped she would never need to. The evil woman was hers to bring down and hers alone. But first she had to heal. She had broken bones, but nothing that to her knowledge could be assuaged by splinting or any other technique. All she could do was rest. She was fearful, though. If the bones refused to knit, the slow decline of the fractures might prove her undoing. She had training in anatomy, but she had not examined a canine skeleton for a long time, and felt the need to remind herself of the position of certain ribs, to better realise the effects violence had rained upon her own torso. It was a good thing now she was such a sparely-fleshed animal, as with her fingers she could easily feel each individual bone. She ran in lupus form, today, though and no outward sign of injury present except for the still-scabbing split on her lower lip, sure to scar, and the occasional wince of pain. She'd heard tell of these bones and this temple, and hoped the knowledge she wanted would avail itself to her here. She found the bridge guarded though, by the heavy presence of a scent she'd found in lesser quantities in the furs of his various children that gleefully roamed the packlands. The encounters with them belonged to a further away, far more innocent time. This man was almost a stranger to her, and the solemnity of his presence seemed fitting with the harsher world Caspa inhabited since the midwinter had passed. She came onto the bridge with light-pecking footfalls and bowed her whole body chest-deep as she approached, the movement a stab to the ribs but her eyes had always been used to carrying pain, and refused to let this physical discomfort show. "We meet at last... here of all places." Caspa had never been taught how to address kings, so did not try. She would take any rebuke with a good will. Her eyes turned to the water, wondering what thoughts Vigilante had been looking through into its depths. "How have you fared since the war?" Familiarity aside, she kept her head turned low, hiding the wound on her chin as best she could.
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