The scarred, lupus-formed coywolf trotted through the lush grass, enjoying the feel of the stalks tickling her slender legs. Sparse woodland dotted the field she crossed, and she knew she would have to traverse the thick, ramose forests north of here on her way home. The fact didn’t bother her, though; she would climb mountains to get back to her den, Inferni, Myrika.
The soft southland had nothing for her in contrast, nothing but clues to her suspicion and few answers—or, at any rate, few answers she trusted. She could listen to the snowy-furred woman all day, but she didn’t understand what the Centurion worried over; and the stuttering arctic wolf had only truly wanted her to get off his territory. Short of running into Jacinto himself, Vesper didn’t know what would satisfy her. Mostly she just wanted to bite something.
A mouse scurried underfoot and gave her the opportunity to satisfy her figurative (and literal) hunger, but she abstained. Hunting in Tribe lands would only give them a reason to squint at her and keep their cheating Lykoi captive locked away—or so went her grouchy thoughts, as she walked toward the edge of AniWaya territory and the grass didn’t feel so pleasant on her legs anymore.
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