I like that picture.
Vesper matched him step for step with long strides, and she smirked when his curled bush of a tail lifted. She might have pursued the warrior way had she thought of herself as one—but she was more of a scrapper than anything, scuffling when she had to and avoiding fights more often than not (at least since she had matured). She didn’t make an occupation out of brutality; she didn’t have the build or the mindset.
“You can do some teaching yourself now, too,” she pointed out, thinking of her own scouts. She’d claimed Hybrid’s offspring more or less, fueled by their shining gold eyes and high spirits. It was a nice distraction from the rough coyotes whose scars marked their age—so long as she could protect them as she could not protect Blind.
Frowning, she swiveled her ears forward and slowed her steps. A couple of deer were browsing ahead, allowing her to get her thoughts away from grief. Floating away on a waking nightmare would do nothing for her belly or Max’s, and she didn’t want to prove herself weak. She crouched slightly, her thick secui mane spiked up from her neck to between her rolled shoulders. Her blue eyes flicked to Max, as did her tail, allowing him to take the lead in this hunt. It’d been some time since she’d caught something larger than a rabbit, and she had faith that he’d have a simpler strategy.
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