WC:513
The crack of bones cut the air like fangs through flesh. A welcoming sound. But then another joined in the silence. The black crania lifted at the sound of her master’s voice. The lunar orbs seemed to glow in the half light, a dull and empty moon. For a moment there was silence. The dark fae considered the sound of her name. It occurred to her that her master chose to utilize her given name. Others of the pack did not care for her culture and gave her names like Phantom--whatever that sound meant. The shattered mind could not compute the gaze with which her master now placed upon her. Perhaps the enslaved one were still within good standing. Perhaps she would fight still. And that was the true anchor of her enslavement. No matter the strength of her ‘loyalty’ to her master, it was always the fight that kept her docile.
Haunted. It was a word that she had heard before, but it was one that she had only marginally come to understand. It took many repetitions of words spoken to her before she could more accurately connect them to her Korean vocabulary. She recognized, however, that the word ‘haunted’ indicated something that related to ghosts. For a moment, it seemed that an eerie, cold sneer would shimmer across her wicked maw. The lunar gaze turned as did her black crania, gazing at the dark corner behind her. It was as if she were checking—and indeed she was. To the Korean, the shadows of the corner were dark and impenetrable, but she knew that He was there. The black orbs of the Crow Wolf were watching her—imperceptible and yet so heavily and dreadfully upon her. She sensed a threat, and yet nothing ever came save for a strange and cold fear that came with the wicked and vengeful ghosts of her homeland. Black lips parted to reveal the promise of strong, white teeth within—a mirthless grin?—as the white orbs returned to the superior one.
“He is watch in dark...place.” The alto voice was heavy with accent as she struggled with the correct words, although she spoke the English sounds slowly and deliberately, as if those were indeed the words she sought. The ghosts of her homeland were not like the ghosts of the Western world. TaeKyung did not think that Salvia could fully understand, for Salvia was a Western wolf. The superstition and her mantra of taekwondo dripped from the cracks of her mind like a black ink that enveloped her soul. It made the woman into what she was, into the feral wolf that she had become. The Jindo-wolf did not care if Salvia were superstitious as well, if she would be punished for bringing vengeful shades into the master’s abode. The shattered mind could not even consider such things. His presence brought nothing, and yet, in the hours of the night, He was always there, dark and heavy, driving an indescribably inexplicable fear into her stomach. And yet, she had grown accustom.... “He watch us.”
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