(727) tl;dr sorry >< can skip first and most of last paragraph, tbh
Ithiel is by me!
The dust-colored coyote was not the best arrow-maker he'd ever known, but his arrows were at least passable. Lathes made the whole thing easier by far, but Ithiel did not know where to obtain such a machine, nor how to work it. He had seen one in Scintilla, an old beast worked with the feet of a Luperci, but it was large, too, and difficult to move. In any case, he got a passable enough shaft by carving knots and bumps from suitable wood, and sanding it down to a fine smoothness and near-perfect straightness. It was a difficult process, hence why he never had an overstock of arrows -- many were broken, lost, or otherwise made unusable. At least the heads could be recycled, and Ithiel had amassed a decent collection of both stone and the rarer metal tips.
He preferred the metal, hence why it was his accustomed inventory when he traveled. His eyes flicked up toward Willam as she moved toward the horse. He gave this moment over to studying her. Her body type was well-muscled and athletic, lacking the femininity and curves in other coyotes. She was, though, unmistakably heavily coyote in blood: he could not be certain there was even any hybridization in her. His gaze avoided the cilice strapped around her leg entirely, and only lingered on her shoulders a moment before returning to the bird. Most of its adult feathering had come in, but there were still downy patches where it had yet to grow in -- probably owing to the cause of its failed flight and broken wing.
He looked up at the dart offered, and reached out to take it. The dusky hybrid was careful of the tip, owing not only to its sharpness but his wariness of poison. How do you shoot it? he asked. If you'd show me sometime. He set his arrow down beside his thigh and passed the shorter one back to Willam, his eyes watching her with curiosity. He was interested in all kinds of weapons, and the ranged bow happened to be his favorite. He was therefore interested in other kinds of ranged weapons, as well. The spear was not to his liking -- while it could be used for jabbing, it was not as effective as a sword, and once thrown, it was difficult to retrieve. One either needed a supply (and therefore a fixed position) or to ornament themselves with several heavy spears (or a few more lighter spears) -- in either case, a bulky and large burden to bear for a warrior.
The longest feathers are best for the arrows, he said, indicating those along the bird's wing and tail. The rest should be plucked if the bird is to be eaten. You can eat through the feathers as our ancestors did, but... it's messy and distasteful to spit out down and feathers after each bite, he said. Unclean methods were not preferred by Ithiel: hence his preference for the Optime form. Hands made neatness possible. He could not recall the last time he had even shifted. Take them close to the base. Pull on the ends and the feather may snap in the middle, and even if it doesn't, it's better to avoid touching as much of the feather as possible.
He demonstrated by using one hand to brush aside some of the shorter feathers in order to clutch a large wing-feather by the thick vein in its center. With a yank, he removed it. A red spot remained behind, already coagulating due to the bird's death. Twisting the bird around thereafter so she might access one wing and he the other, Ithiel glanced at her and readied himself to receive her questions, if necessary. Some of his anxiety was fading: she showed no indication she'd understood or seen what had happened during their last meeting, and more clearly able to evaluate her body, he decided he enjoyed Alma's form more (though perhaps this was simply an attempt at rationalizing away whatever lingering attraction remained). Her piety appealed to him more than Alma's seeming indifference to spirituality, or even indulgence in belief of demons, but he knew nothing of Willam, either, beyond her beliefs. He had spent time with Alma, and thought he knew her rather well.
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