03-25-2012, 06:00 PM
She had a sense that some day soon, a knowledge of this northern neck of the peninsula would come in very useful. Not for any pack or political purpose: this notion was utterly based around the personal. since the festival where Caspa had performed on stage, despite wearing a hood and short cape most of the time, she knew she'd put her odd appearance on display quite enough to call in the attention of any passer by who might know her family: guess where she hailed from. In this world of wolves and coyotes, she knew her relatively strange appearance instantly linked her with the Samirans: nearly all hounds like herself with long feathery fur, drooping ears, arched muzzles. Qualities that should have died out, without carefully controlled breeding.
It wasn't as if she was hiding. But at the same time, Caspa did not wish her family to know where she was if she could help it. Part of her dedicated path was to be as separate and aloof from the world as she could - an impartial observer, and that would become hard for her, with direct links to her relatives. One day she would return - when she was stronger, when she was better prepared.
So, on all fours in her lupus form - the lowest to the ground, and swiftest - she walked the line from coast-to-coast, checking for encroaching trails that she might recognise. Outsiders entering the lands of 'Souls were numerous, but she could detect nothing familiar, nothing with a pattern. She had begun at Amherst, where she'd scoffed at herself as she trailed through the streets. There was no mysterious, outlaw hustler group living and working here: this town was all but deserted. The man she had encountered was simply crazy, and not fighting to defend or conceal any kind of illicit goings-on. She knew now the place that her enemies were hidden, but it was not a place she was at liberty to enter or attack. At least, she could rule out the town of Amherst.
Caspa had moved north, using her nose at first to scent the shortest route to the sea, and then her eyes, for there was little vegetation to obstruct her view and no haze - the sky was overcast, but the brooding clouds rode high, allowing room for stark rays of white sun to penetrate here and there, giving a patchwork appearance to the greyscale atmosphere. The trails she found were all anonymous, all meaningless. This was a relief.
But the unbroken landscape did have one surprise to offer up. Before she could quite complete the bisection of the landbridge, she came upon stone walls: deep trenches dug out of the earth, lined with bricks and floored with strange troughs. This had been built by somebody, but it hardly looked like the more modern human buildings. Surely too old for luperci, thought Caspa, knowing her history well enough. She leaped lightly down into a trench, walked its length. At the other end, she halted: the wall was too high for her to jump out again, having seemingly become higher as she walked along. She sniffed around the base of the trench, searching for a raised foothold to use to propel herself out again, rather than having to retrace her steps all the way back to the other end of the barracks.
It wasn't as if she was hiding. But at the same time, Caspa did not wish her family to know where she was if she could help it. Part of her dedicated path was to be as separate and aloof from the world as she could - an impartial observer, and that would become hard for her, with direct links to her relatives. One day she would return - when she was stronger, when she was better prepared.
So, on all fours in her lupus form - the lowest to the ground, and swiftest - she walked the line from coast-to-coast, checking for encroaching trails that she might recognise. Outsiders entering the lands of 'Souls were numerous, but she could detect nothing familiar, nothing with a pattern. She had begun at Amherst, where she'd scoffed at herself as she trailed through the streets. There was no mysterious, outlaw hustler group living and working here: this town was all but deserted. The man she had encountered was simply crazy, and not fighting to defend or conceal any kind of illicit goings-on. She knew now the place that her enemies were hidden, but it was not a place she was at liberty to enter or attack. At least, she could rule out the town of Amherst.
Caspa had moved north, using her nose at first to scent the shortest route to the sea, and then her eyes, for there was little vegetation to obstruct her view and no haze - the sky was overcast, but the brooding clouds rode high, allowing room for stark rays of white sun to penetrate here and there, giving a patchwork appearance to the greyscale atmosphere. The trails she found were all anonymous, all meaningless. This was a relief.
But the unbroken landscape did have one surprise to offer up. Before she could quite complete the bisection of the landbridge, she came upon stone walls: deep trenches dug out of the earth, lined with bricks and floored with strange troughs. This had been built by somebody, but it hardly looked like the more modern human buildings. Surely too old for luperci, thought Caspa, knowing her history well enough. She leaped lightly down into a trench, walked its length. At the other end, she halted: the wall was too high for her to jump out again, having seemingly become higher as she walked along. She sniffed around the base of the trench, searching for a raised foothold to use to propel herself out again, rather than having to retrace her steps all the way back to the other end of the barracks.