437
The silvery coyote could smell the blood. It was on both of them—dripping down Snake's front, spattered in smaller places over Vieira. The hybrid's yellow eye sized both of them up, deciding immediately neither was in any danger of collapsing and dying within her doorstep. The Hastati remained mostly quiet, his stoic and stony face appearing no more or less emotional than it normally did, until he indicated that Vieira wished to speak for herself. This brought a hint of surprise to the scarred woman's face; the Quintus tended for meek and mild rather than outspoken at all times, and the hybrid could not fathom what might have happened here. Had the two of them fought? Had Vieira attacked Snake? The hybrid did not know what to think; the smaller, paler coyote seemed to crumple up into her arms, leaning heavily against the hybrid's chest. Instinctively the coyote wrapped an arm around her, her hand brushing against what appeared to be bandaging for just a moment, shying away from the strange material instantly to avoid hurting the other canine any further than whatever wound it was beneath them.
In a moment the other canine began to speak, her words shaky and frightened. The hybrid wanted to reach out and pull her closer again, sorrow and regret showing on the scarred features of Kaena's face. She should not have sent Vieira there alone, she should have at the very least made absolutely certain the tawny canine was carrying the knife—whether or not she had training with it wouldn't have mattered. A weapon was better than relying only on physical strength, of which Vieira had little. The silvery Centurion shook her head in disbelief at the Quintus's apology and extended her arm again, waving her fingers to indicate the smaller coyote ought to step forward and come in close again.
"Come here. Don't be sorry. It was not your fault," the hybrid said gently, in the soft tone generally reserved for speaking with puppies. She and Vieira had not been in perfect accord thus far; by Kaena's figuring they were still feeling each other out, learning each other's boundaries and limits—of course, since the relationship was unequal in many aspects, the silvery Centurion's were far more respected than the smaller canine's. She looked to Snake, her golden eye glittering dangerously. She had her suspicions—they required confirmation. "Was it a Dahlian?" she asked, figuring the answer already to be yes—she could not smell him on either Vieira or Snake, but the last thing Inferni needed was someone other than Dahlia de Mai harassing their borders.
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