Millions of years, where it all began

Tlantli Kimaris · 02-12-2012, 05:51 AM

[html]

(509)

Tlantli

The dark canine she'd picked for her target gave her a cool look, and the woman returned it, lips and muzzle writhing with her snarl. Her tongue lashed out a few times, frothy spittle foaming at the corners of her mouth. Already, it was faintly pink with the woman's own blood -- though she was careful with her mouth's movements, small cuts from her teeth here and there could not be helped.

Tlantli had learned to fight by scrapping in the streets, tousling with her brothers. Her background included little formal training, but her prior fights had been in her own defense, or the defense of her siblings: she remembered the cougar, and how Miqui had killed it. The cat should have been hers, but it was no matter -- Miqui had received the worst of the feline's blows, as well as the glory. He could have it -- this glory was to be hers.

He charged her, and with little warning swept low toward her feet. The coyote was knocked off of her balance, rolling over twice in the direction he'd shoved her before she stopped herself, righting herself onto her stomach and then onto all fours again. She darted back toward him, snapping her jaws as she drew near and reaching out with a clawed foreleg to swipe at his, unmindful of the shallow wounds his initial strike had caused. Her arms were laced with old scars, remnants of the Zacatapayoli ritual.

Miqui

Miqui had not seen the dark woman, the slave of Salvia. His red eyes did not perceive her even until she was on top of his initial target, the male with the arrows. Seeing his hand was unnecessary, the tall man stood a moment, swinging his head from one combatant to another. Each of the invaders was occupied, at least for the moment, and none of his Family seemed in any dire need of assistance. The male took several long strides toward the barn, taking care to give Salvia and her opponent a wide berth. Perhaps there was a particularly thick beam of wood or even a pitchfork he might use -- a long weapon to poke would be good.

The coyote loped into the barn, smelling the fear of the horses. He did not sooth them with words, for his voice was not one of particularly calming tones. Instead, the male's dark red eyes swept the innards of the barn, narrowing as he saw nothing of use. Whirling, Miqui stood in the yawning entrance to the building, readying himself should any of his Family require him to aid them. He saw his sister roll, Salvia engaging the smallest and seemingly quickest of the invaders. Miqui's lip raised in a snarl, but he made no move forward. If the slave died defending Salsola, all the better. No part of Miqui balked at being set to the side for the women to do the killing -- it was as it was in Eterne. He would not keep his sisters from their glory and blood.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?