blood on the wind
#4
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You're going to hate me. XD <3


    When she was younger and he was still a child, Kaena had realized he was a hybrid. Even now, the slant of his face and the tapering muzzle on his face made it abundantly clear that he carried coyote blood. Still, he had stank of pack then, and now he stank of more pack. There were coyote hybrids born into packs all the time—the mixed breed Laruku had been born into Clouded Tears, and he was descended from Arlo Xyl, Inferni's one-time leader. He had chosen his side, or stayed with it—whichever. Some of her own grandchildren were born into a wolf pack, but Jael, Enigma, and Halo had chosen Inferni over their homeland, and in Kaena's mind that made them more coyote, regardless of actual blood percentages.



    She snorted, only now recalling the old taunt. Her old head waved from side to side, and she laughed at him, a harsh and derisive sound that echoed between the rocky outcroppings of the tiny island. She was no longer the princess of Inferni, and she had not been for a long time. Not since Zarah first vacated her post, so even then, the taunt was out of date by nearly a decade. "No new material?" she scoffed at him. "I don't want anything from you, mutt," she said, shaking her head in disbelief at him. That same irritating statement about her and being dead flowed from his mouth, and she growled at him, her raven lips pulling back to reveal yellowed fangs that were still fatal. She had no other response to the question—the new scar across her belly, still somewhat pink and shiny, spoke loudly enough. She had almost died. She should have died. Yet here she was, still alive and breathing, wandering the earth. The gods' irony knew no bounds.



    His needle-sharp puppy teeth had clenched home on her nose when he was younger, and surely he'd tasted her blood. The wounds were superficial and shallow, and had been little more of an annoyance. She brought one gray hand to her face, touching her muzzle, running her silver fingers across her shiny coal nose. Her fingers traced to the slices on the side of her muzzle and the crescent scar beneath her missing eye, then the socket itself, tracing the ancient mark above that gaping hole her mother had made, and then finally to that other thin cut on the side of her face above her eye. She shook her head after a moment, grinning at him with that same snarl across her face. "Nope," she said. "But I do see a coyote in wolf's clothing," she added, nodding at him with that same scarred head. "How's pack life? Is the coyote in your head screaming for his freedom yet?"

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