the best laid plans of mice and men

Vesper · 02-25-2012, 10:52 AM

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Yuckpost. And yes, short thread sounds fine. <3 It could even be ended here unless you wanted to post them charging after her. xD Up to youuu.

Word Count → 450

Fear lit up the slave’s eyes at mention of the fighting, and Vesper had her in. She stepped away even as the old woman grabbed for her, buying enough time to seek out the route she’d had in mind. Even doing her scouting jobs for Inferni, she hadn’t come across this out-of-the-way territory and could only guess by the sky which direction home was in. However, she had no destination; she knew that. Taking the slave to Inferni was suicidal, and so all she could do was hope the elder could keep up until they outran any pursuers and found a safe place. She wished that the other Sequoians had worked this out first—if their motives even were to free the slaves. She remembered what Tayui’s sister had claimed about revenge.

“I’ll hide you; just stay quiet and come along with me, okay?” Her voice was soft as she stepped back even more, four paws touching down silently on the ground. She would shift to her bipedal form to assist the woman in walking, but she didn’t trust her optime shape in enemy territory. For all the training she’d done under Ezekiel and X’yrin, she wasn’t an excellent fighter without her original form.

The small coywolf was about to turn when a pair of shapes ran toward them. She scrambled backwards, self-preservation kicking in as she moved to avoid the brownish coyote charging at her. The large, wolfish hybrid rushed for the slave instead, kneeing her to the ground, and sank her fangs in the old woman’s throat.

“No!” Vesper cried hoarsely, and she tried to run at the black-furred wolf, to stop her, to prey her crushing jaws from the bloodied neck—but she’d forgotten about the charging male. Claws raked through the fur on her shoulder and sent her rolling with the strength of the impact. Her world rotated, but her paws found solid ground again, and she darted underneath his next swing.

Her mind whirled. The slave was dead—she’d failed. She was going to be the next to die if she didn’t flee. Her pride might have commanded she stay and fight to the very death, but for once her instincts took over. She didn’t want to die; she didn’t want Ezekiel to know what she’d done.

The male lunged for her again viciously, but she evaded him and sprinted for the low vegetation. Her small size would be her advantage now, diving under bushes the luperci would have to wade through. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would hopefully give her enough of a head start to make it out of their territory—and she was flat out running, lungs heaving, fleeing for her life.

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