Misfortune for the poor
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Adrenaline fled freely through her spry frame; the adept Luperci charging gracefully through the lopsided expanse in angry chase of a fat rabbit. Hunger drove her forward, desperation kept her ignorant to the near-blinding sting of her right arm—wounded the previous afternoon in some callous, senseless attack by some wolf. The thought curdled unhappily within her head, and only kicked her into a more determined run. She had to keep getting away and she had to keep surviving. This was all that mattered.
It might have been faster for her to have caught the rabbit in Lupus form, but there hadn’t been time to shift and she’d just finished making a very poor, but passable spear from a malleable birch. Time to test it out. Her aim was usually impeccable, but after more than two days without a suitable meal, an injury on her dominant arm that she hadn’t intended on having, and the combined fact that she would now have to use her left arm to aim and throw, all conspired against in her. Her chances of success now were slimmer than ever, and fear of failure threatened to make her even more clumsy.
But suddenly, as the pair—hunted and huntress—crested a grassy knoll, the air expanded and the land opened up, allowing her to come into an all out sprint behind her fleeing quarry. And still the rabbit was faster, pulling away… she had to throw the spear. Drawing back, as accurately as she could with her unpracticed hand, she zeroed in on her target with deadly eyes and threw her arm-length weapon with all her might. It soared, whistled maybe, cutting through the space between her and the rabbit. At the same time, she noticed a skull hanging midair, ten yards ahead.
Skidding to a halt, the black coyote doubled over, hands on her knees, panting and slavering. Pain registered, and with a disdainful hiss, she gripped her right arm, feeling the sticky ooze of blood. Trying not to grimace, she remembered what had made her stop, and she looked up, not quite expecting to see the post, with the hanging skull and the others that followed and proceeded in an obvious sign. She cautiously edged towards the barrier, hit then with the scent of a pack. Upon closer inspection, she noticed they were the stouter, thicker skulls of wolves. Though she did not quite understand, the prospect pleased her.
Sneering in appreciative acquiescence, she backed away from the line, and looked instead to see where her spear had landed. She could see it, through the grass, it’s pale, rugged finish wriggling back and forth between the slender stalks of the prairie. Wriggling? The dark woman tilted her head and narrowed her burnished eyes until she could make out that, fifty or so yards into claimed lands, was the rib-pierced rabbit she had been so diligently chasing.
On sight, her jaws slavered, watching the creature as it struggled futilely to escape the lodged stick. At some point, it got unstuck from the ground and crawled (with the spear dangling like a large quill) another fifteen yards away, never quite leaving her sight. Snorting, she found that she had to steel herself against the near-maddening smell of that rabbit, and the best way to do it seemed to be the smell of her own blood. Unclasping her hand from her arm, she inhaled the sharp tang of her seeping arm (three thin, fresh claw marks) and felt her stomach turn. Good.
Satisfied, the woman rocked back on her heels, and fell almost gracefully to her rump, unhurt by the harsh maneuver but obviously frustrated by the look on her face. The border kept her from eating. She was certain she could simply run in real quick and grab it—but somehow she knew that with her luck she would be caught or hunted down and caught, and her skull would be a lovely addition to one of these posts. Perhaps if she waited, someone would be kind enough to give it to her (or she’d be sorely disappointed). Either way, she sat there and thought about it all before making her decision anyway. In the time she sat thinking, the rabbit gave a final twitch and died.



The glint of light that caught the scythe,
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
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